


A beautiful sunset mistaken for dawn

by lisachan, Tabata



Category: Glee
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Religious, Established Relationship, Lemon, M/M, Mpreg, Religious Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-05
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 15:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisachan/pseuds/lisachan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabata/pseuds/Tabata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate Alchemy-based universe, Dave and Kurt struggle to have a baby of their own against the will of the Gods, even though this could lead to terrible consequences. ~ written for the <a href="http://gleempreg.livejournal.com/">Glee Mpreg</a> Mini Bang</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, notes! We hate notes and we also always say that we hate them. Please, bear with us.  
> So, this story is huge. No doubts on that. We know. But we couldn't do otherwise because of reasons.  
> Now, it will probably take quite some time to read it – if you want to (and we would be so happy if you did) – but we promise we did our very best to make it interesting. We love it, so hopefully some of this love just poured into it and made it lovable for real. ~ reviews will be cherished, criticisms are welcomed, but please be gentle

The waiting room was small and clean but so unadorned it gave away its true nature. The legal alchemical facilities were warm, luxury environments, not at all unlike those beauty salons where people went to enjoy some relaxing time, being given massages and experiencing colorful and warm bath in those chromotherapy rooms that were the last trend in beauty care.

There were very few maladies that alchemy could not cure – all of them being rare, almost naturally extinguished diseases that only still remained in filthy places like the Dump – so people weren't scared to go to the hospitals anymore because nothing could really kill them. Therefore, health facilities had become friendly places; each diagnostic room was finely decorated, there were real cafeterias inside the buildings and waiting rooms came with all comforts and sometimes shops too, exams and operation rooms where considered along the same lines as said shops, so that hospitals had become parts of malls where people could hang out like in any other places.

That was the reason why that waiting room was so strikingly different.

Its bare walls and very few ornaments, its small size and hidden location spoke of poverty and urgency, of a place quickly set up and ready to be quickly dismantled if needed. It was a place that was there in that moment but hadn't been there the day before and whose next location would not be revealed until the very last moment.

It had taken Kurt nearly a month to find this one. The alchemist was very secretive about it and she only spoke through ciphered messages on the city's walls. Kurt had had to find out how to contact an outlaw alchemist – that kind of knowledge wasn't exactly on the newspapers – then learn their secret language and follow one of them throughout the city slums and out of the city walls as she left messages for the people who needed her to understand. It hadn't been easy and, with Dave being busy with work, Kurt had had to do all the research on his own, so it had been long too.

Now, he and his husband were sitting in the little waiting room of an illegal alchemist's lab together with ten other people who were asking, like them, for things legal alchemy was forbidden by law to give them or were too poor to afford a real alchemist in a real facility. Like the woman whose baby had been crying non stop since the moment they arrived. The baby couldn't be more than five or six months old and judging by his flushed cheeks and lucid eyes he was feverish.

Sitting next to Kurt, Dave was trying not to stare at all those poor and suffering people, among whom he could easily pick out the few coming straight from the Dump. He had never been there himself but he knew how people looked liked in that part of the city. They were usually skinny – almost famished – boys and girls, with tired eyes always covered in old traces of ordinary make up and a generally sick appearance. Exactly like the girl sitting in front of him right now. She had long and dirty blond hair and she was shivering badly under an old, gray blanket. Her boyfriend held her hand and tried to soothe her by whispering nonsense to her ear.

Dave searched for Kurt's hand too and held it lovingly, looking at the way their fingers entwined. “Are you nervous?” He asked.

Kurt took his hand and played with his fingers nervously; a fair enough answer to his husband's question. “I am,” he said, looking down. “I have so many questions, and none of this is even guaranteed!”

Dave circled Kurt's shoulders with his strong arm, holding him closer but not too much, as to not be inappropriate. Public displays of affection were allowed only if limited to hugs and holding hands; kisses – of every nature – were not forbidden, but still frowned upon and strongly discouraged. “Everything is going to be alright. We are only going to do it if it's safe for you and if results are sure to come,” he tried to reassure him. “I am not putting your life in any danger, especially if these two conditions are not fulfilled.”

Kurt immediately shook his head. “That’s not what I’m worried about at all,” he said. “I know this is right, but I was stupidly expecting something different, and that made me wonder what else I'm expecting that will turn out completely different.”

He had been dreaming about this day for a very long time, now. In each one of his dreams, they were waiting for a doctor in a far away but beautiful clinic, along with other people like them. Instead, this place was gray and sad, and somehow these gloomy surroundings affected Kurt's mood, as he felt like the place where they were going to conceive their baby was supposed to be completely different. But again, he knew very well the place and method didn't matter. The only thing that counted was their will to have a child and they weren't lacking that.

“So you were actually expecting something,” Dave let out a nervous chuckle. “I didn't know what to expect before, and I don't know what to expect now. But seeing you so scared is scaring me, too. I know you said this is right, but you do know we can still go away, don't you?”

Kurt turned to him, his eyes slightly darker than before. “We have no other choice, Dave,” he murmured, looking around to see if someone was listening but everyone was minding their own business, too busy with their problems to care about Kurt's. “You know that. This is the only chance we have.”

“We could still, you know, adopt. It would be less dangerous and... I don't know.” Dave hugged him some more and rubbed his arm, while the baby started crying again. “This place is making me feel uncomfortable.”

“I want my own baby,” Kurt looked down to their hands, the ghost of hundreds of previous conversations between them lingering in his mind. “I thought you agreed with me on this.”

“I do! I do, Kurt, you know I do,” Dave answered, quickly. “I'm just worried for you, for us. And I don't know if this is the right choice, but you know I'm with you, whatever you decide.”

Kurt sighed and tried to calm down. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, after all; even if a small part of himself was screaming in fear, the other – much bigger and way more stubborn – was going to do as it wanted, no matter the risks. Kurt had always been ruled by his own heart. And his heart wanted this baby more than anything he had ever wanted.

“I know this place feels weird and it makes me uncomfortable too, but they say she is good and that she has helped many people! I want to stay and at least talk to her.” He stopped because the baby's crying was turning louder and louder and two people started coughing at the same time, neither of them seemed feeling very well. Kurt met the eyes of the child's mother, who was busy cradling her baby. In them he saw the same kind of desperate hope he had seen in his own, looking at himself in the mirror lately. “I want to take this chance if she can give it to us, no matter how nervous I am. Or how scared. This is the only thing I want, Dave.”

Dave gave him a little smile and lightly patted Kurt on his small and fragile shoulder. “Alright, then. Let's just hope she receives us soon.”

As if summoned by Dave's words, the alchemist opened the unlabeled door that led to her laboratory, seeing a very old and fragile-looking lady out. She was a very beautiful Latino woman, with slightly dark skin and beautiful but cold and distant eyes which burned like fire under the red hood of the cape she wore. She didn't smile to the old lady but still the woman smiled kindly to her in return, like she was very happy and satisfied.

Santana Lopez was once one of the best alchemists of the city but some time before she had done something that she shouldn't have and she had been banished not only from the order, but from the city as well.

The truth behind her banishment was littered with rumors, so much that Kurt had only learned half of it, because the people she was helping now and loved her were very reluctant to speak about it and for everyone else, she was as good as dead. The only piece of information he had managed to scrape was that she had been involved in male pregnancy; one of the worst sin against Gods, which also happened to be the very reason he had been so determined to find her.

He had never met her in person, though. And Kurt was finding out that she was younger and way more beautiful than he had expected her to be. Her past and her work had suggested she was one of those old wrinkled women who had tried her luck at the end of her life and career, but the Santana Lopez he was looking at now was nowhere near her thirty and didn't have the look for the job at all, which made him – and probably Dave too – more nervous than he was already.

He didn't have the time to consider how or if this had changed his heart about the whole matter, because the alchemist glanced over the room and her gaze landed on him and Dave who were the next in line.

“Come inside,” she ordered, and then went back in her laboratory, without waiting for them. The door closed behind her, yet another barrier you had to be willing to pass if you wanted to see her.

Everybody had looked up when she had opened the door, but nobody dared to speak to her. So, Kurt and Dave stood up to follow her in utter silence, which was the clearest sign of the great reverence everybody had for her. Dave had experienced the same kind of silence only in presence of Priests.

Dave was very nervous because that woman scared him a lot. Not only because, as any other alchemist, she was probably capable of things he could not even begin to explain, but also because she was so much stronger than the women – and compared to Kurt, also the men – he was used to see and deal with in the City; modest and fragile creatures, lacking that fierceness she introduced herself with. She also dressed differently from other women he knew. Her pants were clearly manly, as it was the shirt she wore under her long red cape which seemed more for concealing herself when she walked down the streets than a symbol of her position, like it was for a normal alchemist.

Her firm behavior and her cold eyes did very little to make him feel comfortable, when they entered the laboratory. She was surrounded by a scary and powerful aura that could just have been charisma but, with the little Dave knew about alchemy, could just as well have been mere black magic. “Good evening, Miss Lopez,” he greeted her politely, anyway. He looked around to find a chair where Kurt could sit but, finding none, he gently led him in a corner and stood there next to him, trying to comfort him out of the same awkwardness he was feeling.

“You can just call me Santana,” she said offhandedly, turning her back to them as she was busy cleaning something she supposedly used to help the old lady before, in a little steel sink. “We do without surnames and titles down here. We are all a bunch of common names.”

Dave cleared his throat, as Kurt searched for his hand again and let his husband speak as the protocol bound him to do in public, even though he was the one concerning the whole process they came to ask for. “We are very grateful that you accepted to receive us today, Miss Santana,” Dave said, with a little bow of his head, while Kurt was doing the same next to him. “It really means a lot to us.”

“Yes, I guessed as much,” she said, nodding vaguely. Then, she turned around, drying her hands on a rag and weighed the two of them up carefully. None of them had thought to dress any less elegant than usual, so they looked quite out of place in her laboratory. “You know, the temple of the Priests is right behind the corner, comfortably inside the city walls,” she continued, an half annoyed half patronizing smile curling her lips just slightly. “Or if you are not religious, which is not so uncommon nowadays, I can give you the address of one or two alchemical labs more suitable for people of your kind.”

Dave frowned. “We already know where the nearest temple is, and we're perfectly aware of numerous alchemists' addresses in the whole city,” he said, curtly. “We came to you, though, because our request is of a kind that calls for your particular intervention.”

She slowly raised an eyebrow and looked at him, totally unimpressed. “Then, what kind of 'particular' intervention brings a young upper-class couple like you to my door?” She asked, putting the rag away and leaning against the sink. “Do you need drugs? More gold? I must inform you that contrarily to what someone might have told you, I - or any other alchemist for that matter - can't bring loved ones, human or pets, back to life. At least not without a considerable amount of time, money and only to give back to you a pathetic, idiotic copy of what you lost.”

Dave frowned even more, struggling to keep his composure. He wasn't known to be a staid man. He raged easily for the smallest thing. And now, on top of all his nervousness, tension and fear, this woman was being highly inappropriate and kind of unnerving. “We're not here for this, thank you,” she said. “We came to ask  
for... a change. We heard you're the right person for that.”

At these words, Santana's smile faded and her gaze turned distant and cold again as it was a few moments before. She sensed that they were there for something big, but she had to be careful because the agents where everywhere, and with elections due in a couple of months both candidates were eager for some good arrest. For what she knew, those two could mean trouble.

“Yes, I perform changes,” she said as she reached a long table in the center of the room. It was crowded with alembics and little bowls full of all kind of ingredients, that she carefully moved aside to make room for a big, old-looking book. “What kind of change do you need? Skin color, hair color? I can even change the color of your eyes, it is not that hard,” she continued, flipping through the pages and making a list of all perfectly legal alchemical processes.

“No,” Dave started shaking his head before she could even finish. “It's not something so simple. And, honestly, if it was for such a trivial matter we would have asked some chemicals to a regular alchemist. We wouldn't have bothered to come here, with all the risks that a situation like this implies for us. So, please, just listen. We know you can do what we're asking for.”

Santana sighed. Usually agents lacked in desperation, while these men had plenty in their eyes. Plus, while the big one could have been an officer, the other one surely wasn't; with his delicate features and his worried expression, he seemed more suitable to rule a house than work for the government. It couldn't hurt to at least let them speak. It didn't mean she was also going to say yes.

She closed her book and nodded, her hands inside her sleeves. “I'm listening.”

Kurt cleared his throat, looking down as he spoke. “I'd like for you to change me, to...” he dared to look up at her “to change my body so I can bear a child of my own.”

Santana's eyes turned even colder and more distant at the sole mention of that. She turned around quickly and resumed cleaning and moving around things that didn't need to be moved at all. “What you ask is not within the common lines of the recognized alchemy,” she said nervously and annoyed. “I assume you know what it means.”

She actually didn't. Nobody ever knew what it meant or what they were even asking for. Nobody understood the extent of the crime it represented. Changing a male body so that it was fit to bear a child was a magnificent alchemical process, the proof that men and nature – that men and Gods, in her opinion – could work together and create something, create life. And yet the Priests considered it a sin, something to punish. According to her, that was only because they couldn't do the same with their prayers.

She had lost a career over her convictions. She didn't want to lose anything else, if it wasn't worth it.

“That's why we're here!” Dave said. He was starting to get really upset. This woman didn't understand anything. Or she pretended to, which was even worse.

Kurt placed a hand on Dave's in order to keep him quiet and keep talking calmly. “Actually, we don't know exactly what it means,” he explained. “We heard you're the right person to ask to, but we don't know what it will take. So that's why we're here, now. We'd like to ask you a couple of questions, to see if this can work for us. And then we're going to decide on what to do.”

Santana didn't like the bigger man. Or at least, she didn't like his way to bark at her every time she didn't answer exactly what he wanted to hear. Even though she could relate to his way of reacting, because she would probably do the same if the roles were reversed.

Anyway, she had said she would have listened, so she was going to. But first, they needed to be told this was going to be no piece of cake. She had known too many rich people who were persuaded that alchemy was fairy tale magic, able to accomplish everything they could imagine, with no more consequences than a sprinkle of fairy dust over their precious satin dresses, to let them go on without saying a word about it.

“Before you ask me anything, know this,” she said, looking seriously at them. “What you want from me is not only against the law of Gods, but also extremely dangerous for a few reasons you might understand and for a lot more you don't, even if you should. It is not certain and not abiding. Given that, ask your questions.”

Kurt moistened his lips and opened his mouth to ask something, but Dave was faster. “Is it going to be dangerous for Kurt or the baby? Are they going to risk their lives or suffer? Is the baby going to...” he searched for the right words “to be fine?”

That was not even remotely the point, but she was expecting those kind of questions. People always wanted to know if they were going to suffer; as if suffering was the worst that could happen. “As far as your husband is concerned, the risk for him only depends on the medical assistance he will have after the process. Men are not supposed to give birth, so during his pregnancy he might experience ugly discomforts that won't be fatal to him if treated right,” she explained as clearly as she possibly could. “The baby, however is a different matter. Usually everything goes well, but it's an unstable process which sometimes leads to unstable results.”

Dave instantly shut up because what he wanted to say now was that if there was even the remote possibility that the child was going to have problems, then the risk wasn't worth it. But he knew how much it meant for Kurt and that the choice ultimately depended on him. So, he kept his mouth closed and waited.

Kurt nodded, assimilating the information. “I want to know what is the process going to take practically,” he asked furthermore. “What will you have to do to me? How does it all work?”

Santana appreciated that the man wanted to know all the details and she was determined not to hold back on anything, no matter how unpleasant. What she wasn't sure about it was that he or his husband could handle the information. “I will make a concoction that will help your body relax and give up all the possible restrains that would hamper the intervention,” she answered. “Then I will perform the alchemy on you. In order to create something – which is to say an uterus to contain the baby – you will have to give up something else. The process will settle itself with my help, but this basically means that all your internal organs will be redistributed, removed when possible, dislocated, changed to fit in a smaller space. Everything will be back to normal after you give birth.”

Dave opened his eyes wide. He was terrified. “This seems painful,” he cringed. “What does it mean he will have to give up something else? What will he lose?”

Santana shook her head. “We cannot say, at the moment. But the human body is prone to adapt to survive,” she explained, pointing at the anatomical graph hanging on the wall behind her. “So whatever he loses, he won't need it to survive and if he does, what remains will be modified to bear the new condition. I'm here to make sure of that.”

Dave didn't like it at all and he felt in no way reassured, but once again, it wasn't his call. Kurt nodded again. If he was reconsidering, he didn't show. “I see,” he said, thinking about it thoroughly. “What is the ritual consisting in? What will you have to do to get the process done?”

“I won't need to cut you open, if this is what you are afraid of,” Santana said, with barely the hint of a smile on her cherry-red lips. “In fact, I won't touch you at all. It will be the energy of the process to get in contact with your own energy and work with it, which will result in your body to mutate. What you'd have drunk before will help you bear the pain.”

“So, he's going to drink something, and then what?” Dave finally cut in, unable to stay quiet any longer. “Am I going to be by his side? Will we do it here? We need to know everything. I won't let you do anything if I don't know exactly every single step of the process.”

Kurt looked at him. “Dave, please.”

“No, I want to know,” he insisted, stubbornly. “I need to know.”

Santana was totally unaffected by Dave's nervousness. She actually didn't care much. As an alchemist – for such she still considered herself – she wasn't compelled to show empathy to her clients unless she was working in a medical facility. But she wasn't and she had actually never had.

“We would do it in here or somewhere else, that depends on how much time will pass until our next meeting,” she answered. “If you want, you can stay with him, but you won't be allowed to touch him because your energy would interfere with his. The process will last from half an hour to one hour and half and I can only start it. Once it is started, it can't be stopped. After that you will have a very short window of time to get him pregnant before the process, unstable as it is, goes reverse for good.”

Kurt opened his eyes wide and blushed furiously because he had never heard someone talking so shamelessly about such a private matter. Let alone a complete stranger. Dave was shocked too. He didn't blush like his husband did, but he was quite outraged. “What-- what do you mean? How much time will we have?”

Santana shook her head for what it felt like the millionth time, completely blind to their widen eyes. “Again, I don't know exactly. It's different for everyone, but you will want to do it as quickly as you can. It's probably better if you take a room around here. Not the perfect place to make a baby, I agree. But time plays an important role in this.”

“A-- a room?!” Kurt was really shocked now. He covered his mouth with both his hands and looked at her almost horrified. Inns in that part of the city were no places for them; just filthy appendixes of all the brothels crowding the Dump nearby. He was not going to conceive his baby there. 

Dave caught his discomfort and shared it with him. “Why don't you leave this to us? Thanks.” He inhaled and exhaled, and then he tried to lead the conversation elsewhere. “How much will it cost? We are aware the services you offer are not cheap.”

“And this one in particular is not cheap at all,” she confirmed. “Considering the risks with the Priests and the results, plus all the materials I will need, it's gonna cost you one hundred thousand.”

“One-one hundred thousands?!” Dave's eyes grew even wider and he turned pale. “We don't have all that money! It's... it's too much!”

Kurt bit his inner cheek, panic striking him more strongly now than it had before when Santana was telling him how his body was going to change. Money seemed a way bigger problem now that he knew the exact amount of them they will need. Being the one who managed the house, he knew very well their financial situation and they didn't have so much money. He actually wouldn't know how to collect it all, Dave's job being their only mean of support. Even using what they had cached over the years, they couldn't withdraw such a conspicuous amount from their bank accounts without declaring the reason for it. Lying wouldn't have worked either, because rumors would have easily spread.

“How much did you think it would cost?” Santana asked, half surprised half annoyed by their naivety. “We are talking about making him able to do something nature hadn't originally planned him to do. Things like these don't come for free.”

“Not for free, but not for a fortune either,” Dave said. “There's no way we can afford it at this price. I'm sure there must be a way to make things a little less expensive.”

“Please, Miss,” Kurt cut in, on the verge of tears. “We want this to happen. We want this chance. You may be right when you say that the Gods didn't plan for me to be able to get pregnant. But maybe, if they really didn't want this at all, they wouldn't even made people like you able to provide a service that makes male pregnancy possible. If you could consider taking a step toward us, maybe lowering the price a little, we could consider taking a step toward you and try to gather as much money as we can. Please.”

Santana was not in any way moved by his tears, but she had a soft spot when it came to the Gods wanting her to do what she did, which was exactly what she herself thought. Alchemy existed because Gods made it possible, so thinking about part of it as illegal or unnatural had no sense whatsoever for her.

“Alright. I can lower the price to sixty thousand, which is hardly more than half the price and I barely get something out of it.”

Sixty thousand were not in any way more affordable than one hundred, but they were something less, at least. It was a hope Kurt was going to cling to as much as he could. He instantly smiled, the tears in his eyes turning from sadness to joy. “Thanks. That's really kind and generous of you.” He felt the need to hold her hand in gratitude but somehow she didn't seem the kind of person who would have allowed him that. “We appreciate it a lot, really.”

Dave didn't say anything. He had no idea where Kurt thought he could find sixty thousands dollars. He averted his eyes and just held Kurt's hand when his husband searched for his.

“I will get what is needed,” the alchemist nodded. “And as soon as you have the money, we can proceed.”

After that, there wasn't much left to say. Santana saw them to the door, as she had done with the old lady and soon they were out in the warm air of June.

*

By the time they reached the house it was past midnight.

They had to go to the alchemist after sunset, to avoid the risk to be seen or recognized by someone they knew. They even took their second carriage, the old one they never used anymore and was always parked in the garage. The driver was surprised, but well trained enough not to ask questions. He was an old, wise man who had worked all his life for Kurt's family and had been part of Kurt's dowry when he had married Dave. He had no interest in ruining his masters' life.

Dave opened the door for Kurt and they walked inside. The house was dark and quiet, the few servants who worked for them had gone to bed already and the only sound they could hear was the peaceful, almost soothing buzzing of the communication system coming from the media room.

The house was beautiful, and way bigger than Dave's job would have allowed. It had belonged to the Karofsky family for generations, and passed from father to first born over the years. Kurt had come to live there during his engagement period with Dave, as the tradition wanted. Dave's parents had lived with them after the marriage for five years before they both died within a month of each other.

It was a two stored house with one of those traditional big foyer that were so rare in more recent houses and a little but lovely backyard where Kurt was growing red roses. But it had too many rooms for the two of them alone. It was time for them to have children.

Dave helped his husband out of his coat and put it carefully on the hanger by the door. He was pretty sad and discouraged for the talk they had with the alchemist, who made it all seem harder to accomplish - not to mention expensive – than what they had originally thought. He was expecting the process to be quite complicated and he was ready to make all the sacrifices that would have been needed. But the price she asked was too high. Now, he felt like they didn't stand a chance and he was worried that Kurt could take it badly. He had put so much in it. 

Instead, Kurt was so madly in love with the idea of having a baby of his own that he would not let anything discourage him, as crazy and complicated as it could be. They hadn't spoken on their way back, and he waited for them to be inside the house before breaking the silence.

“We should start thinking about what we need to do, now.”

Dave sighed deeply. He saw it coming. He took off his coat, putting it with his husband's and then unbuttoned the first buttons of the neck-high shirt he was wearing. “Which would be? I'm telling you, Kurt, I'm not sure this is actually something we can do at all. I don't want you to get too much emotionally invested.”

Kurt looked up at him, instantly worried. “What do you mean? Of course we can. She said it is possible.”

“She also said we need an amount of money that we don't have right now, Kurt. And I don't know how we could find it. We could use our savings, but you know that every withdraw must be justified to the bank,” Dave said, sighing again as he sat down on his favorite armchair near the fireplace. “...Then I don't like what she said about you changing inside.”

“I need to, in order to bear our child. I know the idea is upsetting,” he stroke his tummy, thoughtfully, “but it makes sense if you think about that. The baby will need space.”

Dave looked at Kurt's hand drawing circles on his tummy and swallowed. He realized he had never really thought about how it would work in practice. The idea of internal organs moving was upsetting enough as it was, but a baby actually being inside Kurt for nine months was suddenly even weirder.

“I know, but she made it seems painful.“ He looked at him with sadness in his eyes. “I don't want you to feel any pain. I don't even know how you are supposed to give birth after I... you know.”

“I suppose they will do what they do when women have troubles giving birth.”

Dave shivered from head to toes and tried to take the thought out of his mind. Even with the generally clean and almost never invasive use of alchemy in medicine, C-section were still pretty bloody affairs. “Alright, then, we have to keep... we've got to keep our minds on the task. Be focused,” he said. “Maybe I could ask for a loan. I mean, outside the banks circuit.”

“I don't think that is a good idea. Those kind of deals are really dangerous.” Kurt shook his head as he went to the drinks cupboard and poured himself something to drink. “We can't take that risk with a baby on the way.”

Dave frowned a little. “I can handle it. I promised I'd take care of you and our family. It's not that hard. I'll ask for a loan and then I'll keep for myself a bit of the business' profits. In six or eight months we will be set.”

“What if something goes wrong with the business? All kind of things can happen,” Kurt went to sit next to him on the couch and lifted his legs, so he could put his feet on his husband's lap. Dave started massaging them right away. “It's better if we don't have debts of any kind. Maybe we can sell this house and live in the summer house.”

What he called summer house was actually a little building, not much bigger than a cabin, Dave's father had used when he'd go fishing during week ends. It was not far from the city and they went there for a week or two every summer so Kurt could sunbath and Dave could take over his father's hobby, but still run back to his office in a couple of hours if he needed to. However, the summer house was not meant to be lived in for real. It didn't even have a proper kitchen. 

Dave made a face. “In the summer house?” He asked. “That's too small and basically on the seaside, outside the city walls. You can't really live there, with a baby to booth. Please, be serious. There must be another way, Kurt. Somebody we could ask, something we could do...”

Kurt stayed quiet for a while, lost in thoughts. Then, after a few moments, he reached out to the coffee table for one of the many phone receivers that were scattered all around the house. He turned it on and opened to the phonebook, quickly browsing through it. “Maybe there is someone.”

Dave raised his eyes on him and arched an eyebrow, moving his hands up Kurt's legs to massaging his ankles. “Who? Someone you know?”

“You know him too.” Kurt smiled, finding the name he was looking for. He checked on line the number he had to see if it was still the same. It was. He looked up at Dave. “What about Blaine?”

Dave frowned even more. He never liked the guy. “What? What about him?”

The number was connected to Blaine's personal profile on every social network and to his business' site. Kurt quickly browsed through them. He hadn't seen Blaine for months now, but nothing seemed changed in his life. “He buys and sells stuff all the time!” Kurt answered. “He is an art dealer. Some of the things my dad left me are really valuable. We can see if he can buy them for a good price.”

Dave got instantly grumpy. He even stopped massaging him, which was the ultimate sign of his annoyance. “I don't like that guy. I never did,” he grumbled, hardly resisting the urge to cross his arms on his chest and be completely pouting. “He was always hovering around you, even after we married. We don't need to bring him in this.”

Also, Dave didn't want to bring him into that and let Blaine know Kurt wanted something he could not provide. The man was rich behind what it should have been legal and the last thing Dave wanted was to give him the chance to take his fat wallet out of his fancy, expensive pocket and make Kurt dreams come true.

Kurt and Blaine had gone to school together when they were younger. They used to sing together in the choir of their neighbor temple and hang around with the same people, even if Kurt was one year older than Blaine. By the time Kurt was allowed to meet his assigned husband, at fifteen, the two of them lost touch with each other until Kurt's wedding, to which Blaine was invited.

 

Since then, Blaine had come visiting once every two or three months. A courtesy Dave could easily do without.

They had been very close during their childhood and a small part of their teen years too. So, even though they somehow grew out of their friendship as it was before, they still cared for each other a lot. Too much, according to Dave who was madly jealous of the charming way Blaine had with Kurt.

However, Kurt didn't take Dave's worries seriously. Mainly because it had never been that way with him and Blaine. “Blaine Anderson and I are just friends, Dave. You know that already.”

Dave had heard him saying that a million times already and of course he believed that, because Kurt had never given him reasons not to, but still Blaine's name made his hands tingle. “Of course I know, but still I don't like him,” he said. “And most of all, I don't like what he became after he lost his fiancée. Losing him made him reckless.”

Gods had not been very good with Blaine, whose assigned husband had died at the age of thirteen, before they could even met. According to the tradition, only the Priests could assign one person to another, which meant you could not marry anyone else, unless the Priests found it for you.

That never happened for Blaine, who had been alone since then.

Kurt put on a very sympathetic face, like every time he thought about Blaine's situation. “You should be more understanding,” he scolded him. “His fiancée's death was hard on him. He never really recovered. As a matter of fact, we should see him more often, instead of letting all these months pass between visits. Plus, he really can help us with this.”

Dave didn't look too convinced. “I don't know, Kurt. I don't think we can trust him. It's not...” He looked for the best way to say it, since Kurt was already glaring at him. “You know, with all the rumors about where he goes and who he meets, I don't think he matches the criteria of discretion we're searching for, in this particular situation.”

“Blaine would never say a word.” Kurt gave him a little smile. “And then, it would be just a matter of days, until after we have the right amount of money. Once I'm pregnant, people can even talk, if they want to. Nobody will be able to do anything about it.”

Dave sighed and pondered the whole matter. Blaine was famous for a lot of unfortunate reasons, but most of all he was famous for how rich he was and how convenient his deals were for both parts involved. So Dave guessed that, if they really had to sell something, he was the best choice. “What were you thinking about selling?”

Kurt had been thinking about it since the very moment Blaine had come into his mind. His family wasn't rich but there were a few old and precious items that had belonged to his father and were now part of his inheritance. One in particular was very unique. Kurt felt sad at the thought of parting from it, but he was willing to do it for his child. “My father's Book,” he answered, in a low voice. “It's the most valuable of my possessions.”

Dave looked at him, shocked. “Are you serious? It's... It's our Creation Book. It was your father's. You love that book. It's the book we would have given to our child, if it was the case.”

The Creation Book was a strong and essential part of the tradition. It contained the story of how the Gods, after seeing the human race suffering for love, had decided to find the perfect match for every soul, bringing harmony and peace in the lives of all. Every man and woman who wanted to live by the Gods, followed the lessons the book contained.

Each family had his own copy, traditionally brought as part of their dowry by the wife or, in case of a same sex marriage, by the submissive element of a couple, which was chosen by the Priests between two babies at the moment of their assignation. Being a submissive - differentiation that only existed in a same sex marriage - meant taking upon himself all those assignments traditionally more related to women, like the house care and a more motherly role toward children.

For what they symbolized, Creation Books had always to be very valuable and precious pieces of art. And having belonged to his father, Kurt held his own particularly dear.

“Well, we are giving it away so our child can come into this world,” Kurt said. “It's an act of love toward him or her as well.”

Dave sighed and brushed his face with both his hands, smiling lightly. “You have already decided, haven't you?” He asked as he looked at him, already knowing what Kurt was going to answer because he knew him too well not to.

Kurt looked straight into his eyes. “I really want this, Dave. And I think we can do it.”

Dave let out a little chuckle. He was lucky to love Kurt for his stubbornness among other things, or they would have been arguing their entire life. But he liked too much the light in Kurt's eyes every time he strongly believed in something. He patted his knees with his hands and nodded. “Alright, then. Let's do this,” he said, dragging him into his arms. “But it's better if you don't call him now. It's almost two in the morning, not a good time to call art dealers. Or anyone for that matter.”

Kurt made a little noise of happiness. “I'm calling him first thing in the morning.”

Dave kissed him sweetly on the top of his head. “It's good to see you so happy.”

Kurt beamed as he look at their reflection in the lucid surface of the glass coffee table. In nine months they were going to be even happier.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt remembered Blaine as a child. He used to be a very lively, happy kid. He unfortunately had lost his mother, just like Kurt did – which was the reason why they bonded almost immediately at school, and started to see each other outside of it too – but he wouldn’t let this bring him down, never. He didn’t remember her, he only knew her face from the photos his father showed him, because she had died giving birth to him, but Blaine, as smart as a child as he was now that he had grown up, always refused to feel guilty about it. “Life,” he once said to Kurt, “is the gift my mom gave me. I’d be an ungrateful son if I spent it in misery because of her death, especially since this was the price she had to pay to give me life.”

Kurt had always admired him. Blaine was like a prince, he was kind, smart, talented and funny. He was rich and lived a happy life, and everybody envied his fiancée a lot, because beautiful as he already was when he was just a boy, everybody knew Blaine would grow up to be a wonderful, handsome and classy young man, and by the time he would have been fifteen and ready to meet his future husband he would surely be one of the best men in town, or even in the entire country.

But something had changed drastically soon after his thirteenth birthday. When his future husband had died, Blaine had let himself go. All the sadness and the sorrow he had refused to let take over his life were now the only thing he could see. “What was the point, Kurt?” he asked one night, sharing the bed with him after Kurt’s father had invited him to spend the night at their house, trying to help him distract himself from the grief of his loss, “I always tried and see the best in everything happening to me, but honestly, I think I was wrong. There’s nothing good in this world. Nothing happy. We’re born to live by the laws of the Gods, and when we break it, we live only to suffer another day.”

Kurt never knew what law Blaine had broken – or thought he had broken – but anyway he had never agreed with his friend on this. Somehow, though, he could see the point of his reasoning. Blaine wouldn’t have thought similar things if he just would have been a little luckier, but Kurt found perfectly reasonable that he was trying to make it easier for himself by blaming somebody else – as in the Gods. That was, after all, one of the reasons why they existed. To help their creatures carry on with their lives, by lifting some of their terrible weighs off their shoulders. 

After he heard him on the phone that morning, Kurt was particularly eager to see his old friend again. Not only because he happened to be the key for Dave and him to fulfill they’re most precious dream, but also because his voice sounded so sad and tired Kurt couldn’t help but to be a little worried for him. He knew Blaine was perfectly capable to take care of himself, but still Kurt cared for him, and wanted him to feel happy.

That was the reason why he had invited him to spend a couple of days with them in the city.

Kurt waited impatiently for the whole day, and when he finally heard the doorbell ring he was so excited he jumped on his feet and stopped the maid already headed to the door. “Nevermind, Janine,” he said, smiling at her, “I’ll get it. You can go, now, I’ll call you when I need you later, to arrange Lord Anderson’s bedroom,” he added. He watched as the maid bowed and nodded, turning to him and disappearing behind a door, and only then he opened the door, smiling brightly. “Blaine! Welcome!” he said happily, throwing his arms around his friend’s neck, “It’s so nice to see you again!”

“It’s good to see you too, Kurt,” Blaine smiled, holding him in a friendly hug, patting his shoulders and then parting from him before the hug could turn out to be inappropriate, especially since they still were on the doorstep. “How are you? You still look as good as always.”

“You always flatter me, and I accept that, even if you are lying,” Kurt answered, blushing slightly as he chuckled, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, “Come on in. How was your trip?” he asks, moving from the door to let him in.

“Oh, the usual,” Blaine said, shrugging as he walked inside and took off his light coat, “Bumpy and hot. The city never changes, does it? I wouldn’t live here for all the money in the world, I honestly don’t know how you do it. You could easily move in the countryside and have a much better house in a much better place.”

“And live so far away from my cinnamon coffee?” Kurt joked, playfully pretending to be outraged, “I never could!”

Blaine laughed out loud, and for a moment Kurt could smile and believe that what he thought while he was speaking with him over the phone was just his mind playing trick on him, overthinking everything and replacing with sadness what could be just signals of tiredness.

“You know,” Blaine said, still laughing faintly, “We’ve got it in the countryside too. We pay people to bring it to us while it’s still hot.”

“Yes, but…” Kurt insisted, staring out the window with dreamy eyes, “The rush hour, the lovely little restaurants on top of the City Tower, and the shops!” he adds, making a little excited noise, “How I love the shops! Living in the country would kill me in three weeks.”

Blaine chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve always been whiny, since the day you were born,” he commented with a tender smile curling his lips, “I remember you, you were only six or something, and you were always asking your dad if he had presents for you, every time he came back from work.”

“A proper gentleman of my kind needs to be pampered!” Kurt said, pouting a little.

“Of course you do,” Blaine laughed again, still playfully mocking him. “So,” he said then, his expression turning serious as his laughter faded away, “What with all the secrecy and the mystery? You almost scared me on the phone, you know? I don’t hear from you for weeks and then you call and you can’t even speak freely? Your jealous husband finally blocked your camcalls?”

“No, you silly!” Kurt chuckled, shaking his head, “I just happen to have something that I’d like you to value and, if the case, buy.”

Blaine opened his eyes wide, very surprised, looking at Kurt as he didn’t even get what was going on. He didn’t have a no-friends-in-business policy, in fact he had a long list of convenient and satisfying sales made with close friends, but Kurt had never showed interest in buying or selling antiques, so his sudden proposition definitely came as a surprise. “You’ve got something yours that you want to sell, and you want me to buy it?” he asked, just to be sure he had got it right, “What does it mean? Or, better, I know what it means, but this is unexpected. What it is that you want to sell?”

Kurt walked to a little wooden table in a corner of the room, and retrieved something carefully wrapped inside black velvet cloth, protecting whatever it was from light and humidity. He unfolded it in front of Blaine, revealing his family’s Creation Book. “It was my father’s,” he said, “As far as I know, it is very old.”

Working as an art dealer, Blaine had an eye for antiques, so he could instantly understand that Kurt was right. He also knew very well what a Creation Book was, how it was handed down from father to child and, of course, the sentimental value of a book like this. “I’ve… I’ve never bought a Creation Book, Kurt,” he admitted, “I’ve never even received an offer, it’s not something people usually sell.” He looked at his friend, his eyes showing how surprised by the whole situation he was. “It shouldn’t be for sale.”

“I know,” Kurt nodded quickly, holding the book to his chest, “And I know it is quite strange to ask you to buy it, but we need the money to do something that would be very important for this family, and this would make the book serve the purpose it originally had.”

Blaine frowned lightly, examining the cover of this book held between Kurt’s arms. It was covered in gold and there were diamonds decorating every letter composing the title. Creation Books were often really ancient copies, worth way more money than whoever could think. They were usually priceless, and Blaine couldn’t imagine why Kurt needed so much money. “I don’t even know if it’s possible for someone not belonging to your family to buy it,” he said honestly, “And even if it was possible, we’re talking about something expensive, here. Your Creation Book is quite old, yes, but it’s perfectly kept. I’d say this is something a family like yours should be willing to keep, not sell.”

Kurt swallowed, looking down at the book and holding it tighter. “But you _could_ find someone to sell it to, couldn’t you? A collector, maybe? I heard some people buy ancient family books,” he tried.

“Yes, of course, sometimes collectors buy them at the black market, as they’ve been stolen from old, abandoned family houses, or sometimes their owners are forced to sell them because they’re in financial troubles…” He lifted his eyes, searching for Kurt’s, “Is this the reason why you’re selling yours?” he asked, worried, “You know you could easily ask for a loan, even to me, I just need to go to my bank and set up a transfer to your account! I would be more than happy to help you!”

Kurt blushed a little, averting his eyes. Surely, Blaine’s money would have made everything easier, and he was a safe person, to whom Kurt knew they could give back their loan little by little without risking to be killed for it or something, but Kurt would never ask his best friend to do something similar, and then if Blaine made a transfer to their bank account they would still have to withdraw, and justify the withdrawal to their bank, while tax inspectors would have been extremely careful investigating on the matter, because of the huge amount of money.

“No, Blaine, we’re not in troubles, thank you. You don’t have to worry,” he said, shaking his head, “As I said, this sell would be really important for this family, maybe as much or even more than the book itself. I’m only asking you to consider the possibility to buy it. Can you do that for me?”

Blaine sighed deeply, crossing his arms over his chest. “I have to find out about what are the real chances of dealing an item like this on the market, before,” he says, pondering the whole situation. “I will have to look it up on the Rulebook, you now, some items are harder to buy and sell than others. And then, obviously, there’s the matter of the price. How much are you asking for it?”

“Actually, I was hoping you could value it for me,” Kurt answered, offering the book to him so he could look at it better.

“Oh, I definitely can’t,” Blaine said, chuckling, “Not an item like this. Listen, why don’t you just tell me the price you were thinking you would made out of this trade? Then, I’ll tell you what I think about it.”

Kurt hesitated for just one moment, and then spoke quickly. “Sixty thousands,” he said in one breath only, unreasonably scared that Blaine would guess what he needed them for by only hearing the number. “But we’re open to negotiation!” he quickly added as he saw the disconcerted look in Blaine’s eyes, “We could start from a base price of thirty thousands, but we can’t ask for less.”

“Mmh,” Blaine said, holding the book between his hands and looking at it as he thought about the situation. He obviously knew a book like that was worth more than sixty thousands, and definitely _way more_ than thirty, but he couldn’t let this knowledge or his friendship with Kurt come between him and his job. He had to make the best deal out of it, so he let his skills take over his feelings. “I don’t know, I’m not sure this can be done. You’re asking for a lot, you know?” he said, moving back to the table to put the book down and carefully flip through it. “I don’t even know if I will be able to find somebody to sell it to, to refund the investment.” Blaine could feel Kurt was desperate to sell the book, it was clear in his sheepish attitude and in the misery he was asking for it, so he was sure that if he could manage to keep him on the line some more he could end up buying it for even less. “Listen, I need time to think it over. Since you so kindly invited me to stay the night, I would like to take this time to carefully ponder my possibilities, and then tomorrow I’ll let you know what I decided. That’s all I can say for now.”

Kurt’s eyes instantly lightened up, a little smile curling his lips. “You can stay as long as you want!” he said enthusiastically, “I’ll have the guest room ready for you immediately.” He clapped his hands to call the maid, who appeared in only a couple of seconds. “Prepare the guest room for Lord Anderson,” he told her, and then watched her leave with another relieved sigh. “Take all the time you need to think it over, and then let me know,” he added, tensing a little as he turned around to look at Blaine again.

Blaine smiled, reading on Kurt’s face how much of a good deal he was going to make out of this sell, and then nodded at him. “I’ll let you know as soon as I decide,” he reassured him with a little hug, and then he excused himself, following another maid to his own room.

*

Blaine said goodbye and asked to be excused right after dinner. Dave didn’t seem happy with his rush at all, but when he added that he wanted to start working on their case as soon as possible, so to have a definitive answer ready for tomorrow morning, he seemed to calm down, and said goodnight too.

Kurt had already asked a maid to open the media room for him, so Blaine already knew where to go. He sat in front of one of the computers and started his research, retrieving his notebook from his pocket, so to take notes about what he found on the web regarding Kurt and Dave’s case. He still liked to write by hand, even if alchemy had made possible for people to write on digital pads that instantly converted every note into a virtual document, making communication between people easier than it ever was.

Blaine liked what alchemy could make possible, he just didn’t like to depend on just that for his work, and this was the reason why he still preferred to write his notes and observations by hand, and when he was at home he would always choose to consult his personal paper archive in his library over searching the internet for information.

Having the stay here, though, made it impossible, so he found himself struggling to find information he knew he would have found way more easily at home. It took almost three hours to find something. It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t comforting at all, and he was about to give up. Apparently, people – even collectors – weren’t too prone on buying Creation Books, both because they were such personal items, and because their cost usually was too much for anybody. Interested buyers could be found in the black market, but that wasn’t a place Blaine wanted to be seen in – his sins were already too many to be counted on both his hands’ fingers, and voices about him tended to spread faster than he could try and stop them – and it didn’t seem like there were so many other chances for a book like that to be sold, so he was taking in serious consideration to tell Kurt he just couldn’t buy it, but then, whenever he thought he had made the decision, Kurt’s begging eyes surfaced in his memory, and he had to give it another try.

He told himself to research some more – not more than an hour, though: he was already dead tired, and his eyes had started to sting long before – and then surrender, but he was interrupted by a voice calling him. “Are you still awake?”

Blaine turned suddenly, quite surprised, because he didn’t expect anybody to be still awake at that late hour. “Uh?” he said, squeezing his eyes in the dark and then smiling and stretching out a little when he recognized Kurt on the doorstep. “Sorry, did I wake you up?” he asked, brushing his face with both his hands, “Were you bothered by the lights?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Kurt smiled, shaking his head. He had gone to bed really early, but he couldn’t sleep at all. He had pretended to, though, when Dave had joined him in bed, because he didn’t want to tell him how worried he was, how much he feared that Blaine wouldn’t want to buy the book, taking away their only chance to retrieve the money they needed. The thought alone was heartbreaking enough. After a while he had gotten up, walking to the kitchen to prepare something hot for himself, maybe a tea, and that had been when he had saw the light on in the media room, and couldn’t help but stopping by, seeing Blaine still there. “Our room is at the other end of the hall, don’t worry,” he reassured his friend, “Have you at least slept a little?” he asked then, worried by the shadows under Blaine’s eyes.

“Honestly, not a single moment,” Blaine answered, chuckling lightly, “I was trying to dig up some information on your case, to see if there was something I could do for you.”

“Did you have any luck?” Kurt asked eagerly, sitting on the armchair next to Blaine.

Blaine shrugged, feeling too guilty to crush every hope in Kurt’s heart in the middle of the night. “Something here and there,” he answered vaguely, “It’s not an easy task, you know? I’m giving it another try, anyway,” he added, smiling reassuringly. “You should be sleeping, though, shouldn’t you?”

“It’s hard to sleep when your mind is racing,” Kurt said, giving in to a small, sad smile.

Blaine smiled too, turning to him. “You didn’t tell me why this is so important to you. I can’t believe you would sell something valuable like your Creation Book, your father’s, moreover, for a frivolous reason.”

“Oh, it’s not frivolous,” Kurt answered, shaking his head, “It’s the most important reason one can think of. But…” he added hesitantly, “It is a delicate matter.”

“What are you talking about?” Blaine asked, now at the same time intrigued, curious and quite a little worried, too, “Are you sure you’re not having any financial trouble?”

“No, I am not, but…” Kurt sighed, struggling. He really wanted to tell Blaine about their plan, also because – money issues put aside – he was very excited at the idea of having a baby, but he didn’t know if he could open his heart to Blaine like that, if he could trust him enough. On the other hand, he was the only one who could help them, and maybe knowing more about the whole situation would have helped him take the right decision. “If I tell you,” he asked, tentatively, “Could you promise me to use us some discretion about it? It is really important.”

“Of course,” Blaine nodded, turning to Kurt and holding his hands in his own, “We’ve been friends since we were kids, Kurt, you know you can trust me completely.”

Kurt smiled, finding in his friend’s eyes the same light of sweet sympathy that had drawn him toward Blaine the first time they had met, years ago. “I know,” he admitted, blaming himself for doubting it, even for just a second, “That’s why I feel I can tell you,” he took a deep breath, holding Blaine’s hands back. “Dave and I… we want to have a baby.”

“…oh,” Blaine exhaled, relaxing and smiling, “And what’s the problem in this? Have you already seen someone? Do you need money for the adoption papers and such? And you don’t have them? I though your husband’s business was going pretty well.”

Kurt lowered his eyes, swallowing hard. He knew Blaine would have instantly thought about adoption, since that was the standard procedure in case of same sex marriages. “Blaine, no,” he shook his head, “We want to have _our own_ baby,” he explained, tensing.

Blaine frowned lightly, unable to understand what Kurt was implying. Then, he thought about the secrecy the whole thing was surrounded of, and when he realized why Kurt was even willing to sell something like his Creation Book, he turned pale. “…you mean you want to… _give birth_?” he asked in a low voice.

Kurt nodded quickly, blushing a little. “We met a woman who can perform the… right process, so I can get pregnant. But it’s a very expensive procedure.”

“You’re talking about forbidden alchemy,” Blaine said, nervously, “Kurt, it’s not something you should do. Why don’t you just adopt? It wouldn’t be any less your child!”

“Of course, of course,” Kurt nodded, though a little voice deep inside him was disagreeing, at some level, “But I really want a child that is the exact combination of me and Dave. A baby of our own, one we gave life to, together, would be so wonderful.”

“Kurt, it’s not the way you were born,” Blaine insisted, shaking his head, “It’s not what the Gods wanted for you. This is a sin against them, you know that. What do you think it’s going to happen if you go through with it? I’ll tell you, it’s going to be a disgrace! Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. The Gods’ wrath is not something to be taken anything less than seriously. You can’t risk that much, I’m worried for you, Kurt!”

“Oh, come on, Blaine, nothing will happen,” Kurt answered, looking away, “I will get pregnant, the baby will be born and we will give him or her all our love. That’s the only thing that can happen. If the Gods didn’t want all of this to happen, they would have made this kind of alchemy impossible.”

“Kurt, that’s just stupid,” Blaine sighed, “The Gods can’t erase the bad in the world, but this doesn’t mean that the bad in the world is right, just because it exists. You…” Blaine bit his lower lip, looking down at his hands, still holding Kurt’s, “You don’t even know how much you’re risking, here. Read your Creation Book, instead of selling it, see what the Gods have done to the ones committing sins against them in the past.”

“Gods don’t punish love, Blaine,” Kurt answered, shaking his head, “They created the world we’re living in, and founded it on love. They don’t want us to suffer, that’s what the Creation Book says. That’s why they give us our perfect match when we’re born, so that we can live happily. Having our baby is what will make me and Dave happy, and I’m willing to take any risk to have it.”

Blaine sighed again, stubbornly looking down. “You’re making a mistake, Kurt,” he insisted, “It’s forbidden, and it’s a sin, nothing good can come from something similar. But you believe it so blindly…” he said, smiling a little, “I’m even more worried, now.”

“A child can’t be bad, Blaine,” Kurt said, smiling back at him, “It’s a gift from the Gods. It doesn’t matter how a child is born, it’s always the Gods that make it possible.”

“No, Kurt, it’s… it’s not like that, but…” Blaine sighed heavily again, “I clearly see you already decided. So that’s why you needed the money and you needed it off the bank? That’s why you decided to sell your Creation Book privately, instead of putting it on sale on a public auction?”

Kurt nodded slowly. “We have enough money on our bank accounts, but we can’t withdraw them all without them asking us why.”

Blaine nodded too, thinking over the whole situation. “And how much do you need?”

“Sixty thousands,” Kurt answered, tensing again, “The woman we talked with wouldn’t do it for less.”

Blaine sighed again, shaking his head. “You know your Creation Book is worth at least a hundred thousands more?”

“Excuse me?” Kurt snapped, his eyes widening, “Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not,” Blaine answered, showing him his notes, “I looked it up on the official auctions records. One of the last book sold there has been published twenty years after yours, and it was sold for a hundred and seventy thousands dollars. And I couldn’t find anything specific about the black market, but I’m almost sure I once saw something published more or less on the same year of yours, sold for two hundreds thousands dollars.” He paused for a moment, giving Kurt the time to read through the notes. “Do you know what this means?” he asked later, “You’re literally giving away something so valuable.”

Kurt held his breath, looking down. He knew what Blaine was trying to tell him, but in the end, he didn’t even care. The thought of having a baby that could be Dave’s and his was stronger than everything else. “I need that money and I need it as quickly as possible, from a person I can trust and who won’t say to anybody what I’m going to use it for,” he lifted his eyes, searching for Blaine’s. “My current desire depends on too many variables to care about the real price of the book. I know my father would agree with me. He wanted a nephew so much, but he didn’t live enough for me to give it to him. I want his wish to be fulfilled, so I don’t feel guilty selling the book for less than half his real price, if this is going to get me what I want.”

Blaine looked straight in Kurt’s eyes, and then sighed and nodded. “Alright, then,” he surrendered, “Sixty thousands, you said? Deal.”

Kurt opened his eyes wide, lips parting in disbelief. He was so surprised to hear this answer that Blaine’s words reached him with a little lag. “Are you serious? You’re really buying it? Oh, Gods!” he almost screamed, covering his mouth with both his hands.

“I am,” Blaine nodded, conceding him a little, tired smile, “I still don’t agree on your choice, I’m worried for you and about the consequences of this thing, but… you want it so much,” he chuckled, “You’ve never been easy to stop, I’ve learned it’s easier to go with the flow.”

Kurt laughed wholeheartedly, throwing himself in his friend’s arms to hug him in a rush of gratitude and affection, “Oh, thank you, Blaine! Thank you!”

Blaine scoffed out a breathless laugh, surprised by Kurt’s enthusiasm, “Alright, alright…” he nodded, patting on Kurt’s shoulder, “I’m happy to see you like this.”

Kurt parted from him, his eyes filled with tears. “You’re giving us the greatest of gifts, Blaine,” he whispered, “May the Gods bless you.”

Lowering his eyes, his smile almost fading away, Blaine could only think that this, despite Kurt’s good intention, was just impossible. Instead, he had just given the Gods one more reason to punish him.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt had thought he couldn't be more nervous than the first time, with him being afraid the alchemist would not do it at all, but he was wrong. When he and Dave arrived to the new place arranged with Miss Lopez, his legs were shaking and he needed to hold Dave's hand not to fall down.

“Kurt, you don't need to do this,” Dave said again as they both stood in front of a dirty wooden door that had seen better days. “We can still go back. I am sure Blaine would even agree to cancel the deal.”

Kurt just smiled reassuringly because he could not really talk. He needed all the strength he had managed to gather that morning to keep himself together. He still wanted to do this, but now that the day had come, everything seemed a little too overwhelming.

After Blaine had accepted to buy his father's Creation Book, they had to wait for instructions from the alchemist. A whole week passed before Kurt could read her answer on the wall he had left his message on. Now that they had the money, she had told them to come there, an even more isolated place than the first sort of lab they had gone to. It was a little apartment, on the fourth floor of a building that looked otherwise abandoned.

“This place doesn't seem healthy, Kurt,” Dave said again. “It looks dirty. You could get an infection or something.”

Of course he could not. The alchemist was not going to cut him open. He could die, maybe. But that would have happened wherever the alchemical process was going to take place in. Again, he didn't answer. He just squeezed his husband's hand and then knocked before Dave could take him and run away. After a moment, the alchemist's voice invited them in.

Inside, the little apartment consisted in just one room and it was completely empty, except for a little stove in a corner and a table, with the usual set of alembics on. Some of them were filled with a blue liquid, others with a greyish substance that looked like jelly and there were little wooden bowls scattered all around the table and filled with powders of different colors. Something was boiling in a pot on the stove. The air was filled with a strong but somehow resembling honey smell.

Miss Lopez was stirring whatever was cooking in the pot and made them sign to enter and be patient for a little longer. Dave and Kurt stood there like they did the time before, without knowing what to do and with all the time they needed to take in the look of the room and be a little scared by it. As they looked around, they saw details they had failed to notice when they had entered.

A pentacle was drawn on the floor in black chalk and they were standing right on the line of the circle it was inscribed in it. Kurt took a step back, both not to be in it and to avoid erasing it somehow. Along the walls, in a very tricky light gray chalk, were drawn some of what Kurt thought were runes. Little, strange signs he could not read that covered the whole extent of the walls, like they were pieces of paper she had taken notes on. There was a blood-red symbol on the door too and it closed some sort of red circle written down on the walls between the gray runes.

“Are you ready?” Santana asked, casting a glance toward him.

“As ready as I can be,” Kurt answered as he shrugged and tried to smile a little.

She didn't smile back and turned her back to them as she resumed stirring in her pot. “It's more than we could hope for,” she just said. “Please, enter the pentacle.”

Kurt took off his jacket and gave it to Dave. Then, he took a step inside the circle, which glowed red for a moment. “What was that?” Dave asked.

Santana didn't need to turn around to know what he was talking about. “The pentacle read his energy and registered it. It's calibrated on him. Now, if everyone else should enter it, the process would be compromised.”

Dave took a step back and glued himself to the wall behind him. She kept stirring for a few moments and then turned off the stove, finally turning to them. “You want to lay down,” she said to Kurt, who was standing there without knowing what to do with himself. “The process can be very demanding.”

“What can I do?” Dave asked, keeping himself so far away from the circle to be almost ridiculous.

“Absolutely nothing,” she answered as she poured another strange colored liquid in the last of her empty alembics. “I guess you want to stay, which is fine for me. But it's really important that you don't interfere in any way, whatever happens. If you can't follow this simple rule, I must ask you to leave.”

“He will stay and behave,” Kurt said, speaking to Dave rather than Santana. Dave could only nod.

Santana looked at them for the longest time, then seemed convinced about Dave’s good behavior and nodded once. She mixed the content of two alembics in a bowl to make a purple concoction which at least looked delicious, since reminded Kurt of raspberry shake. “You need to drink this,” she ordered, handing him the bowl, over the circle's line. “Just a few sips at the time. Don't rush it down.”

Kurt did as she said. With both hands on the bowl, he sipped the concoction carefully, savoring its honey taste. There was a sourer note to it, though. A background taste he couldn't quite recognize. By the time he had drunk it all and given the bowl back to Santana, the alchemist had all set for the process. Now, there was a candle on each of the pentacle's point and she had spread some of the powder in the other bowls on the floor all around it. It looked more like a magic ritual than anything else.

“This is very different from every alchemical process I've seen in my life,” Kurt said, following her every move.

“That's because this is something different from anything that's been done to you in your entire life,” she said back. “Now, please lay down as I begin.”

Kurt sat down and then stretched on the floor, careful not to touch the lines of the star. He shared a look with Dave who smiled fondly down at him. If he felt concern for him – and he did – he was good enough not to show it too much. Then, Kurt closed his eyes to cope with the dizziness the mixture had given him. “My head is spinning,” he said. “Is it normal?”

“Yes, it is. And you should be feeling drowsy too. Don't fight it. Even if you think so, you won't fall asleep,” the woman explained. “Your body just need the right amount of freedom from your mind to change.”

Kurt nodded, even though nothing of this made sense to him. Santana put her hands together and started chanting something they didn't understand. Every time she ended a sentence, a section of the wall would glow red, just like the pentacle had done after Kurt's entrance. It took her almost half an hour to complete the invocation and by the time she was done with it, Kurt looked upsettingly rigid. He stared at the ceiling but there was no trace of life in his wide open eyes. The only thing that kept Dave from reacting was that he could see him breathing.

Santana stood still for a moment. The whole room fell silent and Dave didn’t dare to move as if he could break some invisible structure that had been built by the woman’s words and was now standing unseen over the three of them. He could imagine it as a fragile conformation made of translucent glass-like filaments, all of them interlacing to capture Kurt’s body in a crystal cocoon.

He didn’t know how his imagination had brought him to create such a thing in his mind, but it turned out to be extremely appropriate when the whole structure broke into a million pieces in his head at the excruciating sound of Kurt’s suddenly screaming. He realized he had been nothing but looking up at the imaginary picture in his head, so he turned his eyes down at the floor to find his husband with his mouth open, his face contracted in a painful frown and his body arching so that only the point of his feet and head were touching the ground. The scream coming out from Kurt’s throat was the most distressing and painful sound he had ever heard.

He immediately turned to Santana who didn’t even seem to acknowledge the fact that Kurt was making that sound. In fact, she didn’t seem aware of being there herself at all. Somewhere during the past few minutes, her eyes had gone blank and she was now surrounded by a halo of yellowish energy, swirling like wind around her body. Dave fought the urge to move and do something – anything – to alleviate Kurt’s obvious pain. He closed his hands into fists and kept looking at his tortured body, hoping it was going to end soon.

Kurt felt everything but he couldn’t move. The mixture had relaxed his whole body but only partially eased his mind. He knew somewhere within himself something was moving but while he could not really sense the movement, he would instead feel the pain it caused. It was just a distant echo of the pain it would be if he were completely awake, but it was strong enough to wish he’d rather die. However, even if the process could have been stopped, Kurt didn’t have control over his body to say anything. Whatever sound came out of his mouth was the result of his body own volition, trying to push the pain out of him in a vocal form on his behalf.

His body was on fire. He was awake but he didn’t see anything except the white lightening of the agony he was going through. The last thing he remembered was Santana chanting the first couple of words of her mantra. Then, everything had started to blur and a few seconds later, he had felt the warmth in his belly, almost pleasant at the beginning and then turning in the horrible, deathly feeling it was now. Dave’s presence, always clear to him until the power of the chant had kicked in, was nowhere to be found. He knew his husband had to be somewhere near him, but he couldn’t make out anything except his own voice and Santana, whom he actually sensed as a shadow with the corner of his blind eyes.

Dave was horrified by the mere thought that, if something was going wrong, he would not know. Basically everything that was happening right now looked horribly wrong to him. So, what if Santana was losing Kurt, somehow? What if they were both caught up in that weird energy moving now from one to the other and back, and none of them could say anything to him and he couldn’t save them? He was useless, and it was worrying him to no end.

Kurt had never really stopped screaming. Sometimes his voice failed to came out or it was too feeble to be heard properly, but then he would burst in an heart-breaking screech, arms and legs hanging from his twisted body like the limbs of a puppet. And as if this would have not been upsetting enough for Dave, Kurt’s belly was moving. Under the light surface of his silk shirt, Dave could see peaks and hollows and waves. He could only imagine those were the physical proofs of Kurt’s internal organs shifting to make room for an uterus that was probably being created in that very moment before his eyes. The thought had worried him, the sight was making him sick.

And he felt so guilty for that.

Santana had fallen on her knees, her arms stretched out toward the pentacle and her palms up. The yellowish energy that had surrounded her at the beginning of the process was now meddling with the red glowing coming from the pentacle. Both streams of pulsing light wrapped Kurt’s body and seemed to keep him up from the floor, while the change happened. The woman hadn’t spoken any more words, nor she turned her head anywhere else but at Kurt, whom however she didn’t seem able to see anyway because her eyes were still unfocused and gray.

Kurt had lost track of time. It looked like he had been like this his whole life. He had no memory of a past when he hadn’t felt this pain and he didn’t wish for any more seconds if they were going to be like the ones he had just gone through. The only thought that kept him connected to the present, right now, was that he was doing it for his baby. For their baby, his and Dave’s.

The process went on for an hour, and it stopped suddenly as it had begun. The moment before Kurt was screaming, the moment after he lied down motionless and silent, breathing so heavily that his chest was moving unnaturally fast. Santana went down too, equally drained of her strength. The energies swirled around some more, making a perfect circle over Kurt’s body and then slowly declined to match the black chalk of the pentacle on the floor. It glowed one more time, and then burned out.

Dave felt it was safe enough to intervene now, but he wasn’t sure about entering the pentacle yet. So he walked around it and went to Santana, calling her softly. “Miss Lopez, is everything alright? Is Kurt alright?”

The woman was confused and it took her some minutes to really shake the whole process off. She took the hand Dave was offering her and stood up. The look on her face when she finally came to her senses was very serious and attentive. The writings on the walls had vanished and what was a drawing on the floor in black chalk just moments before, was just the vague trace of a burn right now.

“Is Kurt alright?” Dave asked again. “Can I enter the circle?”

“Yes, to both of your questions,” she said as she needed to rest against the table to hold herself up. The process was as hard on her as it was for Kurt.

Dave ran to his husband who was just now picking himself up from the floor and trembling in doing so. Kurt’s face was really pale and he had black shadows under his yes, but other than that he seemed fine. A lot better than you would expect after all the pain he had been through. 

“How are you feeling?” Dave asked. 

“Good, all things considered,” Kurt nodded, touching his belly like if he could still sense something move inside. But all the pain had vanished and he was feeling only sore which was amazing. “I don’t feel any different, though.”

“You will, in a short time,” Santana cut in, sipping some fresh water and offering some to Kurt who found himself craving for it. “Speaking of which, your window is already open so you should take advantage of it.”  
While Kurt turned red again, Dave was almost outraged. “He is still recovering!” He protested.

“He is already better,” Santana pointed out, nodding toward Kurt who was actually able to stand on his own and was retrieving his coat. “Pain unlike love fades quickly. By the time you will be out of this apartment, he will be more than ready to get down to what you came to me in the first place. And, since you had already wired the money to me, I don’t see any reason to keep you here. Go and don’t waste what we did today.”

She turned her back to them, ending the conversation before Dave could say anything else.

He wouldn’t, though, because Kurt was smiling in a way he hadn’t done in a while.

*

Blaine wasn’t one to get easily worried – life had taught him better than to waste his time worrying about frivolous things, or really, things in general – but somehow his thoughts concerning Kurt and Dave’s choice were keeping his mind clouded with worry and anxiety. He knew he should just stop staring at the rainy night outside the window, for that wouldn’t have made them come back any sooner, but he couldn’t bring himself to finally go to bed and try to sleep.

He didn’t want to sleep and open his eyes the next day in a world in which his closest and dearest friend had just committed a crime against the laws of Gods. Though he knew it wasn’t true, he kept thinking that maybe, just maybe, if he could stay awake nothing horrible would have happened to Kurt, or his husband, or anybody. That was something he often found himself thinking about. That he could help and save people. Someway. Somehow. At all costs. But then, it was so like him, wasn’t it? Always so full of himself, always so arrogant, enough to think he could change things for the better in his own way. Hadn’t the Gods punished him enough, so that he could learn the lesson? Didn’t they already try and teach him nothing he could say or do could be enough to save anybody?

Feeling his chest ache as it usually did every time his thoughts lingered over his past, his own personal crimes and their consequences, he took a step back from the window and lazily walked around the dark room. He hated to feel like that. Useless and hopeless. He learned to live with it as a side effect of his blind faith in the Gods’ will – when you’ve got no other choice than to believe, because you’ve seen how hurtful and merciless can the punishment be if you dare to question the Gods, every hope fades away, replaced by the cruel certainty that every misstep can only result in pain and sadness, and you can only accept it, if you don’t want even worse things to happen to you and your dearest ones – but there was a part of his soul, the one that managed to remain untamed and wild despite time and grief, that still hoped, against all odds, that he would be able, someday, to refuse and overcome that first, essential law.

It wasn’t impossible to live a happy life, even in sin. Some deep, low voice inside him kept repeating that sentence in a whisper, teasing him. But the possibility scared him. Happiness was nothing but an illusion, a distant light Blaine always tried to touch with his fingertips, never managing to reach it. 

Pain, on the contrary, had always been so real. So easy to perceive and explain, so easy to feel.

Pain was all he knew, and he knew it well enough not to want it in his best friend’s life. Kurt seemed so happy, talking about his future with Dave and their future child. Blaine desperately wanted to believe that Kurt was right, that his hopes weren’t the crazy talking of a man blinded by his needs, but he knew nothing good could ever come from a sin like that. So he kept worrying. And fear was eating him alive from the inside.

His way to deal with this wasn’t the one a believer like him should indulge into. But then, funny enough, dangerous and scary as it was, the Dump was the only place where Blaine felt free enough to put everything else aside, and just enjoy his life, or what was left of it after all those years. He knew it was dangerous to go to the Dump, especially since he was a guest in Kurt and Dave’s house, but once the thought teased him he usually couldn’t take it off his mind until he surrendered to the urge, and so he did that night too, hoping that visiting that place would at least calm him down, so that he wouldn’t have to think about his best friend’s doomed destiny anymore.

He walked around the huge bed occupying almost half of the room and reached the trunk he had traveled with, kneeling in front of it and taking a little key out of the pocket on his vest, that he kept hidden under the rich jacket he was wearing. He opened the truck, carefully moving his clothes to find what he was searching for.

His mask. And his cloak. Those were the only things he needed, where he was headed to.

He wore the mask and then put the cloak on. He stared at himself just for a moment in the huge mirror covering half of the big wooden closet he had in his room, and then walked out of the room, deciding to shut all the dark thoughts out of his mind. 

His personal carriage was still waiting for him outside the gates of the Karofsky-Hummel’s mansion. He woke up the driver and climbed inside. He didn’t have to say anything: his driver knew his habits well enough to know there was just one place his master would like to be, at that hour of the night, so he didn’t ask, and after just a couple of seconds the carriage was already moving, headed to the Dump.

No one knew who was the first to call the slums like that, but nobody ever questioned that nickname since that seemed to be the most appropriate name ever conceived to describe a place like that. Built inside the city but so different from the rest of it that it could easily be mistaken for one of those outlaw brothels that could be found hiding in old abandoned mansions lost in the countryside outside the city walls, the Dump was exactly what its name said about it. A place for society’s throwaways. All its colors, all its lights, all the cute boys and girls crowding the streets, publicly kissing and hugging strangers they only knew by the amount of money they could give them, couldn’t change what the Dump was, deep inside. A dirty, filthy place. A place where the music that was everywhere you could turn wasn’t enough to cover the screams of pain of the poor boys and girls who couldn’t even afford an alchemist to cure illnesses that came as direct consequences of their jobs. A place where the only law to follow was the one screamed by people’s guts, and needs, and selfish desires.

A place for Blaine to be free, to feel happiness, even if only in the little drops of sweat he could feel covering up his whole body during sex with nameless and sometimes even faceless strangers, at least until he had to come back home, and forget that happiness ever existed, to let pain fill every hole, making him numb again.

He often questioned himself on his reasons. Why did he do that? Why did he go there, why did he feel the need to pick up somebody and fuck him so strongly, why did he let himself free to do such a thing if he already knew he would feel guilty once the shaking feeling of the orgasm had subsided?

Why did he so desperately need to feel happy, if all he could do right after was to regret it?

The carriage pulled over, stopping all of a sudden. Blaine slightly opened the curtain covering the window and looked outside. It was starting to stop raining, but the people crowding the sidewalk and the street looked like they never tried to search for a shelter. Most of them were soaking wet, their hair and clothes dripping. Leaning against walls or streetlamps or standing carriages, everybody was kissing somebody. Some of them were half naked and lazily rocking back and forth against each others, indulging in pleasures that would have been more appropriate to be enjoyed in private, behind closed doors. 

They all seemed so absent-mindedly happy. 

Blaine sighed, waiting for his driver to open the door for him, and wrapped himself up in his cloak, adjusting the mask covering the upper half of his face. He told the driver to wait right there and walked slowly down the street, used to that pace. That was the pace everybody walked to, there. That slow but not too much way to walk that was the first thing you learned visiting the Dump. To walk just like everybody else, not to draw too much attention. 

He raised his gaze only when he found himself facing the front door of the Candyshop. If he had such thing as a favorite place in the Dump, the Candyshop would probably be it, since it was the place he used to hang out to the most. He didn’t exactly liked it – boys, as well as girls, though he wasn’t interested in them, were always too skinny, and the place wasn’t big enough to fit all the people jumping up and down and moving on the dancefloor, making it impossibly crowded and kind of suffocating – but he didn’t exactly hated it either. Plus, hookers came with drugs – little, colored pills that, combined with sex, helped making his mind lighter. They called them candies, and that was the reason behind the name of the club.

Blaine walked in, instantly starting to breathe slower, in short, quick breaths, trying not to fill his nose with the bad smell making the air unbearably thick. Sweat and sex and cigarette smoke. He already wanted to go away, but he couldn’t bring himself to just do it. 

With music bumping in his chest, silencing the beat of his heart, he started looking around, searching for somebody. Anybody, really. Boys didn’t even have to be cute to interest him. They just had to be easy. Some people liked to court them, even though they only needed money to get in their pants, but Blaine wasn’t that kind of man. He hated himself enough just because of how much he needed that. Enjoying himself while doing it was out of question.

He chose a boy. He was alone, sitting on a stool by the bar. Young, but not too much, big hazel eyes, dark and dirty hair curling up a little on his neck. He didn’t look very healthy, and he was kind of shaking, but Blaine forced himself not to think about it. He didn’t care for him. He never cared for any of them.

He stopped beside him, not noticing the other man approaching. He was tall and elegant, but his face was covered in a black mask, just like Blaine’s, and Blaine didn’t waste a second trying to guess who he really was. Visiting the Dump was strictly forbidden to believers, but it was too big for Priests to even try and shut it down. So people kept going there wearing masks to hide their identities, and nobody cared to investigate about them because once you walked in you signed an unwritten pact with everybody else: they wouldn’t ask about you, if you didn’t ask about them. That was enough.

The man smiled, while both the boy – already standing on his feet – and Blaine stared at him. “Can I barge in?” he asked.

The boy shrugged. “Fine by me,” he answered, “but you’re both paying.”

“Fine by me,” echoed the man. “What about you?” he asked again, looking straight at Blaine.

Insides tied up in a knot and already warming up with anticipation, Blaine nodded. 

The boy led them through the club and in the back. Walls were covered with people leaning against them. Boys and girls on their knees blew them like in a well-tested production line. A man finished, another one was instantly ready to take his place in their mouths. The air was filled with sucking noises and low, hoarse moans. Blaine closed his eyes and felt embarrassed for himself for how much he liked those noises, how excited they made him.

He opened them only when he felt the boy and the man stopping by a dark corner in the back of the room. Crowded as the place was, that was probably the only spot left with some space to move. 

The boy retrieved a couple of pills from the back pocket of the short, worn-out pants he was wearing, and then made them drop to the floor. He wasn’t that good to look at, even naked. Blaine felt disgusted by himself, because he couldn’t help his own arousal. Everything surrounding him was sleazy, dirty and wrong, and he liked it. He felt good in it. He only managed to feel this good when he was loathing himself.

The man kissed the boy passionately. Unusual enough, Blaine thought, but he instantly understood why when the two parted, and the boy put one of the pills on his own tongue, before turning to him. Then he knew why the man looked so caught up in it, because he himself kissed the boy with the same hunger and need, swallowing the pill like medicine. 

Everything blurred out. Sounds began to echo in Blaine’s ears, stronger at first, then dimmer and dimmer with every second. He felt the boy’s body trapped between his and the other man’s, he felt him move and whimper, he felt the salt of his skin on his own tongue, the wet warmth of his body surrounding himself, and when he heard him scream in pain he only barely noticed he wasn’t alone inside his body anymore.

Blaine came with a soft noise, slipping out of the boy’s body. It wasn’t dark enough. He could see every detail. The sweat, his own come dripping out of the boy’s spread out opening, still filled up by the other man’s cock. 

“I haven’t finished yet,” the man said, grinning smugly, “You mind if I go on?”

Blaine felt sick and nauseous, he only wanted to run away. He ripped his money out of the pocket, everything he had with him – definitely too much, that was for sure, but he didn’t even care –, he threw them on the ground and ran away, never looking back. The boy kept looking at him for the whole time, his eyes filled with tears, his whole body shaking in pain. 

He emerged from the backroom, trying to forget that sad face. His heart was beating faster again, but the music was loud enough to make it unnoticeable. He needed to drink, though. His mouth was dry and tasted bad, he needed something sweet to wash that taste away and he needed it now.

He moved towards the bar and sat on a stool, asking for a cherry-flavored alcoholic drink to the bartender, and he was still drinking when he heard the voice of the man sitting beside him echoing in his ears. He focused on that sound because, still confused by the pill he had taken, he had a hard time deciphering whatever he was saying, but once he managed to concentrate enough he was able to get it, and the stranger only had to repeat twice. Something to be proud of, for sure. “I said that you don’t look any good.”

“I’m sorry,” he answered, clearing his throat, “Do I know you?”

The man smiled in a sweet, almost feminine way, making Blaine kind of uncomfortable. “Would you want to know, if you did?” he asked back in a light chuckle. Blaine wanted to answer, but the man didn’t give him enough time to do so. “Anyway, no, I don’t think we know each other. And even if we did, I probably wouldn’t recognize you, nor you could recognize me, because of the masks.”

Blaine nodded vaguely, staring at him and then turning back to his drink. Conversation. That was unusual too, and he wasn’t feeling really comfortable in the situation. He just wanted to finish his drink and go back to Kurt and Dave’s. He needed to pray, to ask for forgiveness. And to sleep. Gods, he wanted to sleep for days. He was feeling so unbearably sick and weary.

“So?” the man asked, forcing Blaine to look back at him again.

“So what?”

“So, why aren’t you looking good?” the man explained with a little smile. 

Blaine shrugged, looking away. “Just a bad day, I suppose,” he answered. “And I suppose you ask every single man sitting beside you how they feel?” he added with a smirk, “I thought pick up lines were better, nowadays.”

“Oh, it’s not a pick up line!” the man shook his head, laughing whole-heartedly, “I’m married. And though this usually isn’t enough for people to stop coming here for sex, it is for me. I love my husband.”

“Then why do you come here?” Blaine asked dryly, turning to him with a frown. 

The man shrugged, his eyes wandering over the crowd on the dancefloor. “To remember how lucky I am, I suppose,” he answered, before turning back to Blaine. “Anyway, I don’t usually talk with people, here, but you seem kind of desperate. I always find it funny, you know?” he commented with a little, amused smile, “How clients, in this place, always managed to look so much sadder than hookers. Shouldn’t it be the other way ‘round?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Blaine answered, swallowing up what was left of his drink all at once, “And I’m not interested in having this conversation. Goodnight, sir,” he said, standing on his feet.

“Samuel,” the man smiled, sitting still, his legs crossed, a light beer in the half-empty mug he was holding in his hand. When Blaine turned to him, staring at his half-covered face in shock, he smiled again. “That’s my name,” he explained, “It’s alright if you don’t want to answer with yours.”

Nervously clenching his shaking fists, Blaine turned his back at him and rapidly walked away, deciding it was better not to answer at all.

*

It was around 4 AM when they managed to come out of the building. It was rainy, and dark clouds kept covering the moon, leaving the whole place in the most complete darkness. No noise can be heard beside the light tickling of the rain falling on the ground and on their carriage parked nearby, and the faint neighs of the horses.

Still pretty shaken by what he had seen, Dave didn’t know what to do. He kept looking at Kurt every now and then, and couldn’t help but notice his lost eyes and flushed cheeks, wondering if those could be signs of him feeling sick or something. He seemed someway upset, and what bothered Dave the most was that he wouldn’t know how to help him, so he just helped him getting on the carriage and then sat beside him, telling the driver to move.

Kurt sat down as comfortably as he could, which wasn’t a lot, since he was feeling so weird. The pain he had suffered during the process had managed to fade away pretty soon, leaving room for another kind of feeling, something he could recognize, but that he had never felt so strong before. It was almost embarrassing: he knew he had to feel this way – that was probably the result of something the alchemist gave him, something that could help them use the small window of time they had in the best way – but still he didn’t feel comfortable enough to look at Dave or move closer to him, and that was making him irrationally anxious and agitated. 

As he felt the carriage start moving along the bumpy street, he had to undo the first two buttons of his shirt to try and breathe better.

“Kurt?” Dave called him in a low voice, sliding closer to him on the seat and placing a hand on his shoulder, “Is everything alright? I saw you in there, and even now… you seem pretty shaken up. Do you want some water?”

“No, I’m fine,” he answered, shaking his head and forcing a weary smile, “I’m just…” he turned to his husband and couldn’t help but shiver a little, his cheeks flushing even more. He didn’t remember wanting Dave that much since the first months of their wedding, when jumping at each other and never leaving the bed seemed like the only option to pass time. He had always loved his husband, and their fire had managed to keep burning during the years, but it had never been quite as strong as Kurt was feeling now, so much that he barely managed to look at him without shivering, or having to avert his eyes. “I’m fine, really,” he insisted, shaking his head once more. “How long will it take to be back?”

“Well,” Dave answered, thinking about it as he let his arm slide over Kurt’s shoulder, stroking his arm sweetly to try and reassure him, “We’re way outside the city walls, but if I tell the driver to hurry, it’s probably going to take not more than an hour and a half or something.”

Kurt shivered again, clenching his fists around the fabric of his trousers, trying to keep himself calm and focused. There was no way he could wait that much. Not only because they seemed to have a very short time, judging by Miss Lopez’s words, but also because he was literally on fire. His body was almost aching for Dave’s touch. He needed it, he needed it immediately.

He smiled vaguely, shyly looking away. “Would you mind cover all the windows for me?” he asked in a low voice.

Dave blinked a little, although instantly doing as Kurt asked. “Are you bothered by the streetlights?” he asked, since they had just took the only lightened street that led back to the city, “Is it better like this?”

He only had the time to see a little smile curling up his husband’s lips. Then, he found himself holding Kurt by his hips as he straddled him, kissing his cheeks softly. “Mm-hm, much better,” Kurt said, placing his hands on Dave’s shoulders to balance himself better.

Dave opened his eyes wide, surprised and slightly uncomfortable, holding Kurt close to himself to prevent him from falling because of the carriage bumping up and down. “Kurt…?” he hesitantly asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Kurt answered, leaving little kisses on Dave’s jaw and finally brushing his lips against his husband’s, asking for a proper kiss, “Are you? We don’t have much time and I think we should take advantage of every second.”

“…in here?” Dave asked, his voice unsteady as his body naturally answered to Kurt’s, like it always happened between them. “I… I don’t know, maybe it would be better to wait until we’re home.”

Kurt moaned softly in protest, kissing Dave again, this time slowly and teasingly. “One hour and a half is long, maybe too much,” he said in a low voice, rubbing against Dave’s body, “I don’t want to miss our chance, Dave. Do you?”

Dave slowly shook his head, his lips brushing against Kurt’s with every movement, searching for another kiss as he absent-mindedly slipped a hand under Kurt’s jacket, aching for some skin to touch and groaning when he only managed to find the silk of Kurt’s shirt. “I… I don’t know…” he whined, shaking his head, trying to be reasonable despite what his body was asking for.

Kurt kissed him again, deeper and hungrier than before as he opened his legs wider to grind better against Dave, caressing him through the neck of his shirt. “It’s alright,” he said in a whisper, “Just… touch me.”

Kurt didn’t have to ask for more, for that was already enough for Dave to give in. Whatever that alchemist had done before was clearly having some effects on him too. He grabbed Kurt’s shirt and pulled at it, tearing it out of his pants and finally sliding his hands under the silky fabric to caress Kurt up and down his back. “There’s… there’s not enough space,” he complained, trying to kiss Kurt down his neck and frustratingly fighting against the rigid collar of his jacket, still in the way.

Kurt took it off, freeing himself of it. “Don’t worry,” he muttered confusedly, moving slowly but strongly on Dave, “I’m going to stay on top of you, just like this,” he reassured his husband, searching for his lips.

Dave shivered badly at the mere idea, holding him close and kissing him hungrily. “Come here,” he whispered on Kurt’s lips, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling at it when he felt like the buttons weren’t opening fast enough.

Kurt let himself free to moan in pleasure as he gave in to every kiss and let Dave undress him. He offered himself to his husband as he started covering Kurt’s chest in sweet and barely wet kisses, hands unconsciously running to the hem of Kurt’s pants, pulling at them too.

“Take them off,” Kurt murmured, half-standing up on his knees to help him comply.

Dave nodded, lost in Kurt’s warmth and in the sweet smell of his skin. He unbuttoned Kurt’s pants and pulled them down his milk-white thighs, instantly stroking his buttocks with his hands once the pants were not in the way anymore. He squeezed hard, feeling himself growing more excited at the mere sound of Kurt’s whiny voice. “I want you,” he growled on Kurt’s skin.

Kurt answered fumbling frantically with Dave’s belt. “Then take me,” he said, kissing him deeply, “Dave, please. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Yes,” Dave answered in a moan, moving quickly against Kurt, “I just need to get you ready, first.” 

Kurt nodded, staring at Dave with eyes filled with desperate need as he slickened his fingers and then let them slide down Kurt’s back, aiming for his opening. He barely had time to ask himself if that was the right way to reach their goal, if it was going to work having sex as they always did even if Kurt’s body had changed, but then the need he felt to be inside Kurt as soon as possible, and possible even sooner than that, couldn’t lie. He decided to follow his instinct, for that was the way children had always been conceived, and their child, despite it all, couldn’t be any different.

He kisses Kurt again, distracting him as he pushed two fingers inside him, thrusting carefully. Kurt moaned softly, hiding his face against Dave’s neck, sucking at his skin as he moved accordingly to take them in as much as he could. Which was way more than he usually could.

Dave instantly felt something was different from every other time they had had sex. They weren’t used to do it a lot anymore, so Kurt’s body usually responded very shyly and stiffly to Dave’s fingers, while now it just seemed to suck them in completely, and Kurt kept moving up and down like all he needed was more of that. 

Dave growled and kept fingering Kurt, sliding a hand between their bodies to unbutton his own pants, taking his already hard cock out.

Kurt kissed him all over and then withdrew, biting at his lips somehow teasingly. “Dave, it’s alright,” he whined, moving on Dave’s fingers, “I’m ready, I feel it. Please.”

Dave nodded, feeling it too. He knew his husband’s body enough to know when he was ready and when he wasn’t, and Kurt definitely was. Ready, and hungry for more. He pulled his fingers out of Kurt’s body, guiding his cock to brush against Kurt’s opening and then circling Kurt’s hips with his hands to keep him still. He was waiting for the right moment to break him open and thrust into him, but the carriage bumped, Kurt lost his balance and he fell on Dave’s lap, taking him in completely with a little scream.

“Ouch…” he whined, trying to stand on his knees again. When he managed to, he gave in to a little chuckle, brushing the tip of his nose against Dave’s. “Well, that saved us time, at least,” he commented with an amused smirk.

“I’m sorry,” Dave said, speaking in a low, almost embarrassed voice. He had never done such a thing with Kurt, and Kurt had always been very shy on the whole sex matter, so he was very worried about making him feel uncomfortable or displeased, but every worry was instantly brushed away by how good and hot and surprisingly welcoming Kurt’s body felt. 

Dave started moving slowly, his pace getting faster and faster with every second, and Kurt answered moaning happily, his voice getting higher and his screams getting louder with each and every thrust. He usually was way quieter than this, but somehow nothing seemed to count anymore in that moment. He placed his hands on the back of the seat, behind Dave’s head, to keep himself steady as he started moving forcefully over him, following his pace.

“Kurt…” Dave called him softly, scared that the driver could hear them and stop the carriage. Kurt lowered his gaze, trying to focus on his husband’s face, and instead of asking Kurt to be quieter, since he got the feeling that was really something Kurt had no power on, caught up as he was in the moment and in what they were doing, Dave kissed him deeper, as he started to push faster inside of him.

Kurt understood, and buried his voice between Dave’s lips, struggling not to make too much noise though he was feeling so good he just needed to scream his heart out. 

Dave kept his lips locked with Kurt’s and held his husband’s hips tightly, moving against him so to push deeper and deeper inside his body. Between the waves of pleasure that shook his whole body and the blind worry that they could be found doing something so inappropriate in their carriage, the only thing his mind seemed to be able to focus on was that he wanted to reach as deep as he could inside of Kurt’s body, so he could bury a part of himself there, and give Kurt what he wanted the most.

He parted from Kurt’s lips only to tell him that he loved him, as he slipped a hand between Kurt’s thighs to stroke him.

“I love you too,” Kurt answered, kissing him one more time before letting himself go to Dave ministrations, moving in his hand following his pace, feeling his climax quickly approaching.

Dave dared to move faster and harder, holding Kurt with a hand on his back to both keep him close and help himself to angle his own thrusts better. Not only he could feel his own climax approaching, but he was sure Kurt was there already too. He smiled, feeling deeply connected to his husband, like he almost never felt before.

Kurt kept moving over him, fighting the need to be vocal, taking off some steam by biting and kissing Dave’s neck, leaving dark marks on his skin. He kept doing it until he felt his body so shaken by pleasure that he couldn’t take it anymore, and then he shivered badly, moaning into his husband’s ear as Dave kept thrusting deeper, kissing alongside Kurt’s neck as he tightened his grip around Kurt’s cock, stroking it faster and stronger.

He only started to slow down when he finally came inside Kurt’s body, collapsing over his shoulder, panting harder. As Kurt came too, the effects of the drugs the alchemist gave him started to fade a bit. He calmed down, resting his forehead on the curve of Dave’s shoulder, his slow movement cradling him a little.

The only thing he could think about was whether or not they had made it. But he couldn’t know it yet. He just had to wait and see.


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine knew that leaving the Dump immediately was a good idea when he had just the time to come back to Kurt and Dave’s mansion, dismiss his driver and put away his mask and cloak before his hosts came back from their trip.

Hiding in his bedroom, wide awake sitting on the bed, he heard the noises from downstairs and headed for the stairs, looking down at Kurt and Dave in the hallway from the landing. “Is everything alright?” he asked, his voice filled with worry and a tiny bit of curiosity.

Kurt was leaning on Dave, he seemed tired. His eyes were half-closed and he couldn’t seem able to keep them open, like the light – though dim as it was – was too strong for him to stand it. “Fine…” he murmured, his voice nothing more than a feeble whisper.

“Kurt?” Blaine insisted, walking down a couple of steps, his eyebrows furrowing in concern, “Are you sure?”

“He had a rough night,” Dave answered in his place, holding him gently up and lifting him in his arms. Kurt instantly wrapped his arms around his husband’s neck, holding onto him as he rested his head against his shoulder, his eyes finally closed and the expression on his face a little bit more relaxed, “He just needs to sleep,” Dave added, coming up the stairs with Kurt almost asleep between his arms. “He’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“Yeah…” Kurt nodded, his head barely moving. 

Blaine watched them pass beside him and head quickly to their bedroom, guilt already clouding his eyes with tears that he already know he would never feel entitled to spill. Kurt seemed so weary. And when his best friend – the friend he had loved most since he was a child – was battling for his life in a who knows how dirty alchemist’s cave, where was Blaine? Where the hell was he, when he could be needed somewhere else?

He ran to his bedroom and kneeled by the bed, holding his head between his hands, crying softly. “Make me a better man,” he prayed in a low voice, his shoulders shaking with every sob, “Make me a better man.”

He couldn’t sleep all night.

He only found the courage to come out of his bedroom when the sun was already high up in the sky. His stomach was starting to ache, twitching with painful spasm of drug and sleep deprivation-induced hunger, and he found himself yearning for a good breakfast. 

He wore his housecoat and walked down the stairs, frowning as he stared at the empty table in the dining room. “Lord Anderson,” a housemaid called him, smiling gently, “Lord Hummel and Lord Karofsky are having breakfast in the garden. Would you like to join them?”

Blaine nodded and followed her outside. 

It had finally stopped raining once and for all during the night. Blaine had listened to the sound of the rain fading away minute after minute as he lied down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. Now, the sky had cleared up from the grey, heavy clouds of the day before, and the sun was shining warmly over the garden, making the green grass shiny.

Kurt seemed to be taking it as a good sign: the smile curling his lips was calm and faithful, and his eyes showed nothing but happiness as he slowly sipped at his tea, sitting beside his husband at the little rounded table in wrought iron right in the middle of the garden, near the fountain.

Blaine sat with them, forcing an even smile as he looked at Kurt, waiting for another maid to serve him his breakfast. Suddenly, though, he wasn’t hungry anymore: his main concern seemed to be Kurt, and so he just took a bite from the slice of chocolate cake the maid put in his plate, and then leaned in to take one of Kurt’s hands in his, deliberately ignoring the glare Dave threw at him. “How are you, Kurt?” he asked, smiling softly at him.

Kurt answered with a sweet smile that mirrored his own, as he placed his free hand on his belly and stroked it gently through the soft fabric of his robe. “I feel it grow,” he answered in a lightly embarrassed whisper, conceding himself a little chuckle as he averted his eyes, “We have to thank you, Blaine,” he added, his hand still on his belly, “We could have never done it without you.”

Blaine felt a more confident smile curl his own lips, and as Kurt went back to look at him in his eyes he held his best friend’s hand firmly in his own, stroking the back with his thumb to give him strength.

Yes, that was his chance. Something he was responsible for. Something he helped create, and that he wasn’t sure anymore it was so bad as it first sounded.

“Please, let me stay,” Blaine said, turning to Dave, “I want to help you both as much as I can. I want to be a part of this,” he turned back at Kurt, hope sparkling in his eyes, “Let me stay here.”

Kurt smiled back at him, shared a look with his husband and then nodded, entwining his fingers with Blaine.

Yes. The chance to make a better man out of himself. The Gods had given it to him. And Blaine wouldn’t have missed it, this time.

*

He didn’t stop going to the Dump, though. Living with Kurt and Dave kept him busy and mostly happy during the day, but it was useless at night, when thoughts of his past resumed crowding his head and confusing him. 

Blaine knew he should have stopped. He knew it because he knew the law, and he knew that going there was forbidden to believers. It wasn’t healthy, it wasn’t safe, and now that he had started to live a life so different than the one he was used to, it was starting to feel a little pointless too. It had started to lose interest to his eyes, but still he kept going, basically out of habit. 

That night, he was feeling particularly helpless and tired. Kurt wasn’t feeling very well, he was feeling dizzy and nauseous, so he had decided to go to bed early, and Dave had followed him almost right after, so Blaine had found himself sleepless and alone in the silent and dark house, and had therefore decided to go out.

The streets were noisy and full of people. The end of the rainy season always made the Dump even more crowded than it already usually was, making it for Blaine even harder to stand. He quickly walked out his carriage and headed towards the Candyshop: he didn’t even want to have sex, that night, he just wanted a quick drink, and then he would have asked the driver to bring him back to Kurt and Dave’s.

He walked through the sweaty mass of people crowding the club and finally reached the bar. He sat on a stool, asked for a drink and kept his eyes low, locked on the bar counter, hoping for his drink to come fast, so he could leave.

He had to be insane. There was no other explanation, he had to be totally out of his mind to risk that much to come to a place like that without even wanting it. What was wrong inside his head? Why couldn’t he just stop acting that way, why did he need the stupid, dirty thrills crawling up and down his spine that only the Dump seemed able to give him, to go on with his life? Why were guilt trips so important to him, why couldn’t he do less of them? 

“You still don’t look any good,” a sweet, soft voice said, somewhere beside him. Blaine looked up, focusing his gaze on a young woman sitting on the stool next to his. He tried to recognize her, but both the fact that she wore a mask and the fact that he didn’t recall ever talking to a woman in that place made it impossible for him.

“I’m sorry,” he asked, blinking confusedly, “Do I know you?”

The smile curling the woman lips turned way more amused than it already was. “Would you want to know, if you did?” she asked back, and Blaine opened his eyes wide, shocked.

“It can’t be…” he whispered, “Are you… how is it even possible?”

“Well, outlaw alchemy has made great strides, in the last few years,” the woman said in a light chuckle, sipping at her cherry-flavored drink. Its smell was so strong Blaine felt confused by it.

“You’re that man… what was your name?” he muttered, trying to remember, “Samuel?”

“It’s Samantha, now,” the woman winked, crossing her legs.

Blaine looked away, thanking the barman with a nod when he finally gave him his drink. “You shouldn’t be so out and proud about it,” he spat out bitterly, “Last time I checked, using alchemy to change gender was still forbidden.”

Samantha shrugged, her red lips curling in another small, satisfied smile. “Here, nobody can judge me. Not even you, whoever you are,” she added in a light chuckle, “Everybody in the Dump have their own fair share of sins. We all live with them.”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Blaine snapped, stubbornly looking away, “You told me you had a husband, that you were happy with him, am I right? You lied, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then why the change?”

“Because that’s what I always wanted,” she answered, and her smile turned sweeter, “My husband always knew. He always supported me. It took so much effort from us to make it possible, that it would be pretty stupid of me not to be happy about it now.”

“It will turn against you,” Blaine insisted, focusing on his drink only, holding the glass between his fingers so hard he heard it almost crack.

“Listen,” Samantha said, shrugging away her long hair from her shoulders – did she had them when she was a he too? Blaine hadn’t notice, or didn’t remember – and looking at him fiercely, “Whatever you think you know, or really, whatever you or anybody else think at all, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I wanted it, it was possible for me to have it, I got it. It’s that simple.”

Blaine swallowed hard, almost closing his eyes as he let his memories flow freely in his mind, playing on repeat over and over again. “I was thirteen,” he started in a very low voice, so low that it was a miracle that, with all the noise surrounding them, Samantha could hear him at all, “I was reckless and stupid. I questioned everything, because that’s what kids do, isn’t it? All the rules, they all sounded like bullshit to me. I was destined to somebody and I couldn’t see him, I couldn’t even talk with him, how could that be fair or right?” he stopped to sip at his drink, trying to find in it the strength to go on. 

He had never talked about what happened with anybody, not even his parents. That was the first time he shared his secret with someone, and it seemed easier than he had ever thought, probably because he was talking with a stranger, he was half-drunk and he desperately needed to speak out. 

“I wanted to see him. I was curious and… I just wanted to see him. So I snuck inside his family’s garden, I knew where they lived… I just hid behind a bush and waited, and when I saw him, you know, I was so happy I could cry, because he seemed so beautiful to me.” He stopped again, sighing deeply. Samantha was looking intently at him, holding her breath. 

“I clearly remember that, as I left the garden and run back to my house, I couldn’t stop thinking that now I was willing to wait forever, if that was what it took to have him. Two years more seemed like nothing. And I thought how stupid it was to have kids live such a sad childhood, forced to stay away from their soulmates. I was sure I had done the right thing, because I was feeling better. Calmer, even. And then,” he turned to face Samantha, his eyes so dark she almost drew back, feeling kind of threatened, “Two weeks later, a servant from my fiancée’s parents brought a letter to my house. It said that he was found dead in his bed after a fit. It said that the alchemists had visited him and found out his heart was malfunctioning. No one knew about it. It couldn’t be cured, they said.”

“…it wasn’t your fault,” Samantha tried to say, but Blaine let out a bitter chuckle, stopping her right there.

“Yeah, sure,” he shook his head, “It was. I know. I sinned against the Gods and they punished me taking away from me the only thing I wanted, the only thing that could make me happy. That’s why I think you’re a fool, and you don’t know what you’ve done. You were perfectly happy, and now you ruined it all. You’ll see.”

Samantha stood up from her stool, walking a couple of steps away from him but then stopping before getting really far. She was smiling, and that didn’t fail to both amuse and irritate Blaine. “What’s your name?” she asked. 

He answered without even thinking twice about it. “Blaine.”

She nodded and smiled again, holding out a hand. Blaine froze on the spot when he felt her hands combing his hair in a calm, soothing way. “Blaine, there’s no point in living this life if you can’t be happy about it,” she said, bending to kiss him on his forehead. “Try to remember that more often.”

Blaine watched her leave right after, and couldn’t bring himself to move for hours after that.

*

Kurt kept saying he was sure the alchemical process had worked out because he could feel the baby growing inside himself, but the power of his faith was so strong it could easily have been just his imagination. Also, since the alchemist had said that in case of a pregnancy Kurt would have needed more medical help than any pregnant woman – which was simple logic, him being a man and all – they absolutely could not do without a doctor.

The hardest part was finding the right one.

First of all, they needed someone who wouldn't freak out facing a case of male pregnancy. Kurt was hardly the first man giving birth, since the process had been known for several years now, still it happened so rarely that not all the medics were qualified to attend to a pregnant man. In fact, most of them didn't even know where to begin visiting one, let alone helping him deliver.

Secondly, even the most qualified doctors weren't exactly thrilled to tend to pregnant men. 

The process was forbidden by the Gods and therefore illegal. And even though Kurt, Dave and their doctor would not end up in jail whatsoever – because people got arrested only if accused to be dangerous for others – they would be frowned upon by the entirety of the priests who would strongly discourage the community to deal in any way with the two sinners and partially with whoever helped them too. Therefore, while the pregnancy was surely going to have bad social consequences for Kurt and Dave, it could also jeopardize the doctor's job. And not many of them were eager to take the risk.

Last but not least, they needed discretion. Obviously, if Kurt really was pregnant, they could keep it a secret only for so long. But the longer the better, and someone babbling about what they did before it was time was something they could do without.

It turned out there wasn't such a doctor.

They had thought their family doctor would have been a good choice since he had served two generations of Karofskys and he had been a good friend of Dave's father, not mentioning he knew Dave since he was a kid. But the man was suddenly very different from the gentle, faithful mate they had always known him to be as soon as they told him the truth. Apparently, their unforgivable sin had vanished a life-long history of good relationship and mutual respect.

Dave had called Mr. Chang as soon as Kurt had started vomiting.

The complete inability to keep anything down that had made Kurt so unbelievably happy – as he had took it as the unmistakable sign of a life growing inside his belly – had upset Dave immediately because he was still more prone to think about internal damage than pregnancy.

Mr. Chang was visiting Kurt in his and Dave's bedroom, after he had been filled in. Dave had called for him with the claim of Kurt suffering of a general indisposition and the doctor was now really outraged to find out he had been deceived so and for such a reason. He had stopped smiling the moment he had known and his aggravated face was not doing anything to help Dave cooperate with the anxiety of waiting his response.

“So, is everything okay?” Dave asked, pacing the room nervously.

The doctor covered Kurt's belly again and rolled down the sleeves of his own shirt. His face was even darker than before and his hands were still sparkling with the last remains of the alchemical energy he had used to check on Kurt. It took him forever to answer and Dave couldn't help but thinking he was doing it on purpose. 

“Your husband is definitely pregnant, Dave,” he said eventually and the squeak that came out of Kurt's mouth at this almost covered the rest of his answer. “But I wouldn't be happy about it, if I were you. This kind of abominations in alchemy lead to all kind of problems for the people who undergone them.”

Kurt was too happy to worry about the Gods, if he had ever worried at all. So he stood up and the maid helped him wear his dressing gown, all the while David was giving up to panic once again. “But is he alright?” He asked again, ignoring the omens all together. “His body, the... the baby. Is the baby healthy?”

Mr. Chang looked at him for a moment and then nodded, though his expression indicated he'd rather have had to announce the worst as if saying everything was alright was a personal offense to him or any other legal alchemists for that matter; which probably was. “The transformation is completed, albeit not permanent. I sensed the energy that keeps this makeshift uterus together. For the moment the fetus is well, both in size and vital signs.”

“For the moment?”

“Risks of miscarriages are not to be underestimated. We are talking about very delicate and unnatural conditions,” Mr. Chang said. “He has things in him that shouldn't be there. You do the math.”

“I felt it moving,” Kurt said, gently rubbing his lower tummy. “How this is even possible if the baby is the size of a normal baby which at this stage I suppose must be very... small?”

“Some inches top,” the doctor said. “But what you felt was the energy fixing things for your baby. Hopefully, you will start feeling it in a few weeks.”

Dave didn't know how he thought some medical advice could reassure him. Obviously it couldn't be a normal, easy pregnancy. Therefore he could not be a normal, calm soon-to-be father. “What can we do to reduce the risks?”

“Kurt will need to rest,” the man said, as he retrieved his cape and stick from the maid who had shown him to the door together with the two lords of the house. “And a lot of luck, I guess. Perhaps praying to the Gods for once, instead of breaking their laws will help you.”

Dave wanted to answer back, but Kurt stopped him, gently laying a hand over his arm and stepped forward. “Mr. Chang,” he called as the man was about to leave the house, “I take you understood this is something we'd rather keep quiet until a more suitable time.”

“Don't let yourself be deceived by the fact I've known your husband's family for quite some time now because I am compelled to report you to the authorities. And as a matter of fact, I would even if I wasn't. What you did is unforgivable, either by the Gods or by any sensible person.”

“You can't...”

“Yes I can, Dave. And I will,” the doctor said, sternly. “Your names will be reported to the priests as soon as I reach the temple. I'll keep assisting you, though because contrary to a great majority of my colleagues I think it would be a sin as well for me to leave you on your own dealing with this.”

Dave would have said more, but Kurt didn't let him. They helplessly watched as the doctor got on his carriage and left the house, heading to the temple to give them away. Dave was furious, even though he knew this was going to happen. Though, when he turned to Kurt, all his anger dissolved because his husband was smiling softly at him.

“I don't care. Let him tell the world,” Kurt said, cheeks flushed and sparkling eyes. “We're having a baby.”

The thought finally struck him for real and Dave needed to sit down. That being so, Kurt was right. Let the doctor tell the world, if he wanted to. Dave had bigger problems to face, right now.

Like trying not to faint.


	5. Chapter 5

Dave snorted loudly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t think this is a good idea at all,” he insisted, while Kurt whined, already wrapped in his expensive black coat that – despite how new it was, since it had been bought just a couple of months before to replace the old and smaller one – barely fit on him anymore.

“Oh, come on, Dave,” Blaine smiles, placing both his hands on Kurt’s shoulders to reassure him: he had promised his friend the day before that he would have found a way to convince Dave that, after weeks passed locked inside the house or in the backyard, the time for a stroll outside had finally come, and he didn’t want to disappoint him. “The weather is fine and Kurt feels good. Don’t you, Kurt?”

“I do! I do!” Kurt answered quickly, nodding as he spoke, “I feel alright. I can go.”

“It’s dangerous,” Dave insisted, stubbornly trenching behind his crossed arms, “You heard the doctor, he said you have to be careful.”

“Honey, that was almost six months ago, and you keep repeating it every time I want to go out,” Kurt protested, lowering his eyes. He was aching for a walk on the streets, hearing the voices of the city all around himself and feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin instead of having to hid under the gazebo in their garden at every hour of the day.

“What makes you think that the fact that some time has passed could mean that now would be less dangerous to go out and exhaust yourself?”

“Exhaust myself!” Kurt almost yelled, waving both his hands in the air in frustration, “Do you even hear yourself when you speak? I don’t want to go out climbing mountains, I just wanna take a walk!”

“Now, now, why don’t we all calm down?” Blaine interrupted them, smiling patiently, “Dave, it’s just a walk to the temple. We’re only going to attend mass, and then walk back home. Kurt’s not going to be in any danger, since we’re both going to be with him, aren’t we?” Dave muttered something in protest, but Blaine just smiled added “You wouldn’t let me and Kurt walk all the way to the temple alone, would you?”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Dave finally surrendered, grabbing his coat and wearing it quickly, while Kurt struggled to contain his joy, letting it out only in small happy noises without jumping around. 

“And then, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to go to the temple and pray closer to the Gods,” Blaine suggested, nodding to himself, “Maybe, in their wisdom, they’ll be merciful enough to forgive you and protect you.”

Dave nodded too, still muttering unintelligible words in protest, though he couldn’t really argue with that. Kurt smiled gratefully at Blaine and Blaine smiled back at, satisfied. His presence had been more than needed, in the last few months, especially with both Kurt and Dave growing more and more frustrated as time went by, with Kurt always asking for more freedom while his husband got more and more prone to not give him any, scared that his peculiar condition would cause him harm if he overworked himself.

They had needed somebody to mediate between them, and – luckily enough – Blaine knew a thing or two on mediation, thanks to his job.

When they finally got out of the house, Blaine smiled fondly looking at the ecstatic expression that was smoothening and enlightening the lines of Kurt’s face. His friend was finally smiling happily, breathing in and out the fresh air of the city and enjoying a glimpse of normality shining into his usually not-so-normal-anymore life.

The three of them walked slowly down the street, heading to Temple Square. Kurt leant on Dave, holding onto his arm, and Blaine walked beside them, chatting with Kurt about the weather and all the new shops that had opened in the last months, while Dave made sure that, if something should have had happened to Kurt, he would be the first knowing it, by watching his husband so close his concentrated and restless eyes could have been easily mistook as a sign of mental illness.

“Dave,” Kurt said in a light chuckle once that Dave had stopped screaming about the dangers of bad paved sidewalks after his husband almost tripped over a little hole in the ground he had not seen coming because of his prominent belly, “Would you please calm down? I’m not gonna die on the street for a little fall.”

“You didn’t fall,” Dave pointed out, frowning. He had been able – and good enough – to catch Kurt before he could really fall. He wanted his efforts to be recognized.

“Yeah, but even if I did, I would have been perfectly safe, Dave!” Kurt insisted with another happy laughter. An argument like that would have been fast to turn into a serious fight if they still were in the house, but being finally out put Kurt in a good mood. Luckily for Dave. “Come on,” Kurt added, kissing Dave lightly on his cheek to reassure him, “I will be fine. Nothing bad is going to happen today. I can feel it.”

He was wrong.

Temple Square was crowded, but no one seemed to notice them because the mass was about to start, and whoever was still crowding the square was already late, as they were too. With his wide-brimmed hat, the long coat covering him down to his feet and the sweet curve of his belly so clear despite all his attempts not to make it too obvious, Kurt could easily pass for a woman to a careless look.

But not to the watchful eyes of a priest.

“You can’t come in,” one of the priests guarding the huge doors of the temple waiting for everybody to come in said, standing still with his arms crossed over his chest in front of Kurt and Dave, his hands disappearing inside the long sleeves of his frock.

It was so sudden that Dave stopped abruptly in midstep, almost unbalancing Kurt. He had to cling to his husband’s arm harder not to fall.

“Excuse me?” Dave asked, astonished, as Blaine approached them with eyes wide open, staring at the whole scene in disbelief.

“You can’t come in,” the priest repeated, casting them all a stern glare, “You’ve been reported to the Council for your sin against the law of the Gods, and that _thing_ ,” he added, pointing a finger toward Kurt’s prominent belly, the features of his face twisted in a mask of disgust, “That _thing_ is the proof that what has been reported is true. For this reason, you can’t come in, and from now on you’re permanently banned from public masses in every temple of the city.”

“What? You can’t do that!” Blaine cut in, almost standing between the priest and his friends while Kurt covered his mouth with a hand and moved closer to Dave, almost scared that he could lose all his strength and fall on the ground, “Everybody has a right to attend mass!”

“You lose your every right the moment you sin against the Gods,” the priest answered, his cold eyes still locked on Kurt and his belly, “Punishment will come from them, and until then, and even after, we can’t let him in.”

“But what if they came to ask for forgiveness?” Blaine insisted, gesturing nervously, “Would you deny them that chance?”

“They can ask for forgiveness into their own house,” the priest said, finally turning to Blaine and looking at him just like he had looked at Kurt up to a moment before, “They don’t need to walk inside this sacred building and make it dirty.”

Blaine parted his lips, shocked, disgusted, even outraged. He had always thought about the priests as a reasonable group of pure-hearted, faithful people, ruling them all by the law of the Gods only with patience and compassion, and though he himself had sinned enough in his life to know he didn’t deserve any forgiveness, he just as strongly believed that, for Kurt and Dave, it was different. They were good people. They just wanted to be happy. They didn’t deserve that treatment. “This is… unacceptable!” he yelled, his hands shaking violently out of rage, “It can’t be tolerated, you’re overstepping your borders! You can’t keep believers out of the mass, it’s unfair, and I will not—”

“Blaine, don’t,” Kurt interrupted him, parting from Dave. He was unsteady on his legs and his voice was shaking, but he looked so pure, so dignified in his painful resignation that Blaine couldn’t help but do as he told, and Dave could only follow him a step behind, to assure he would be there to catch him if Kurt ever lost his few remaining strength all of a sudden. “It’s not him keeping us out of the temple, it’s us not wanting to come in.”

The priest faced him steadily, outraged. “How dare you, sinner?” he roared, waving a fist not more than a couple of inches away from Kurt’s face, “You dare to talk against a priest speaking on the Gods’ behalf! You’re shameless!”

“Well, maybe I am!” Kurt replied, yelling, his fists clutched down his sides, “But I’m not going to ask for _your_ forgiveness, since you’re not a God but only a priest, and actually I’m not going to ask for _any_ forgiveness, since whatever I did, I did it to bring happiness to my life, and that’s what the Gods want for us!”

It was in that moment that a high-pitched neigh and a heartbreaking scream broke the muttering sound of the people looking at the scene on the stairs of the temple. Everybody turned to the place the scream had come from all at once, to try and understand what had happened.

A man was lying on the tiled ground on the street. A crying woman was holding him in her arms as he puked blood, her white, elegant dress stained in red all over. “No, no, no, please, no…” the woman cried, while the man tried to move and couldn’t, his breath only hardly slipping out of his lips in short, painful gasps, “No, oh Gods, please, no!”

Both Kurt and Dave stood on the stairs, looking at the scene in horror, while Blaine moved closer, a niggle in the back of his mind that wouldn’t leave him alone: he knew that voice, he was almost sure he did.

“What happened?” somebody asked, “The horses of a carriage went wild, they stepped on him. He’s done for,” somebody else asked. Blaine listened to everybody, but the more he moved closer to the crying woman and to her dying husband, the more he felt like he already knew what was going on.

The man drew his last and passed away, and the woman screamed again, before her voice turned in a soft whisper, as she kept murmuring reassurances to the ears of a husband that couldn’t hear them anymore.

Blaine was right, he knew that voice. “Samantha,” he whispered, kneeling beside the woman and placing a hand over her shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

She suddenly turned towards him, her eyes wide, he lips parted in both horror and shock, her tear-stricked cheeks flushing. “Who…” she started in a low voice, but then he thought about his voice and recognized him.

Blaine could only hold her in his arms as she kept crying her heart out, the corpse of her husband lying on the street, and he only barely noticed the people murmuring all around, the priests all yelling “she’s that abomination! The man who changed his gender with forbidden alchemy! You see, that’s what happens when you sin against the Gods!”, and even Dave jumping at one of the priests’ throat after those harsh, heartless words.

The only thing he could think about was that he would have never, never stepped inside a temple again.

*

Samantha's husband funeral was a very intimate ceremony.

She had wanted something sober and quiet at the mere presence of her family and a few of her closest friends. Blaine attended the whole service and he was moved to see how many people had showed up to pay their respect anyway, standing in silence outside the house where the funeral was taking place.  
The hate of the people he had felt for her and her husband on the very scene of the incident in the streets of the city was nowhere to be found here in the countryside where Samantha's and her husband lived. In fact, as Blaine had found out, her house wasn't far away from his own.

Also the priests there had been more sympathetic. One of them had actually agreed to come and say mass for her husband, leaving aside all the prejudices and concentrating only on the death of a human being. Maybe he didn't know the man and his speech had been dreadfully generic for a funeral, but it was respectful and Blaine could tell this was all she wanted at this point.

After the service, Blaine followed the casket to the family's graveyard where she had decided to bury her husband and held her close as she would break in tears unable to accept what she was looking at. It was moving and heart-breaking and as her husband was lowered down in the grave, she was so in pain that Blaine felt his own heart crack in half.

He went back t Dave and Kurt's house after sunset, leaving Samantha to her mother's care but determined to come back to her as soon as he could. Whatever reasons had brought them together, now he felt her really close and wanted to help her through this, hoping to do a better job than the one he had done with himself.

When he got to the house it was well past dinner time, but Kurt had left something aside for him and he was waiting for his return, sitting in the dining room with a cup of tea in his hands. “I wasn't expecting you up,” Blaine said, giving his coat to the always obliging maid. “You should be sleeping by now.”

“I can't,” Kurt smiled tiredly.

Blaine joined him and sat down with an exhausted sigh. “Do you feel sick?”

“Luckily my sickness have long gone. This is one of the few good things about being eight months pregnant,” he smiled, caressing his belly. “He's just restless tonight.”

“He's moving around?” Blaine asked quite curiously, as the maid served him his dinner. He thanked her with a nod and she walked away swiftly. “Can you feel him?”

“I can actually see him. Every now and then he presses his little feet or hand against my belly and I can see it.” Kurt chuckled at Blaine's almost horrified face. “Don't worry, it's not so bad as it sounds.”

“It certainly sounds pretty bad,” he said. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it's just annoying. I hope it's not a sign of his character,” Kurt said.

That pulled a laugh from Blaine. “If he is half as stubborn as you are, then...” He shook his head, “We are ruined.”

Kurt tried to throw a pillow at him but he missed him completely and knocked a very ugly ornament on a drawer just behind Blaine. He didn't even flinch, he wanted to trash it anyway. “So, did you choose a name, yet?”

“Nope,” Kurt shook his head quickly, like a little kid. “I gave Dave tons of options but the moment the doctor said it was a boy three months ago, he went crazy and couldn't pick one since then. No name is good enough for him, I don't even know.”

“He's going to find the right one, eventually. He's his firstborn, just cut him some slack,” Blaine said, playfully.

“I cut him all the slack he wants, as long as he gives me a way to call my son,” Kurt sighed. Then, he put his empty cup aside and crossed his hand on his belly. “I didn't ask you, how was your trip?”

“Sad mostly, but fine,” he nodded. “The service was quite moving.”

The baby kicked him hard and Kurt stroked his belly a little more strongly to soothe him. “I'm sorry for your friend. Have you been knowing her for long?”

“No, just a few months. I made a deal with her and we... just kept in touch.”

Kurt nodded. “I see. Did you know her already when she decided to change?”

Blaine thought about the moment that beautiful woman had approached him and it turned out she was Samuel. He had only seen her once, then. “Sort of. She was undergoing the change.” He decided that was the most honest answer he could give on the matter. “Listen, Kurt... About Sam, there is something I wanted to talk you about.”

“Sure, what is it?” Kurt settled with his back against the pillows and tried to find a comfortable position. His whole body was aching.

“I would like to go back to the country and stay with her for a while,” he said, pushing his now empty plate aside and cleansing his mouth with a napkin. “She is alone, now. I mean, her mother comes visit but that house is huge and I don't even know how it must feel to live there on your own when you just lost someone you love as she loved her husband. I don't trust her to be alone, right now.”

“Of course,” Kurt said, distractedly as he moved again, the pillows not helping him at all. The baby seemed to hate vigorously every single position he tried. 

“So, since you're still one month away from the delivery and there is no real danger anymore,” he continued, pointedly avoiding Kurt's fidgeting on his seat, “I thought I could go there and help her for the first weeks. I will be back for when the time comes. What do you think?”

Kurt made a strangled noise. “I think the baby is coming.”

*

Everything happened so fast. Blaine sent for the doctor and woke up Dave, all the while holding a very growling, very whining Kurt in his arms. By the time Dave was up and aware of what was going on, Kurt was screaming in pain, scaring the hell out of both the other men. Luckily the doctor came with his son and nurse, Mike, to rescue them and take charge of everything, even though his face wasn't any less serious than all the times prior.

Dave wanted Kurt to be taken to an alchemical facility but it turned out it was too late for that. If they had tried and get Kurt on a carriage, he would have probably had to give birth on it, which was unthinkable given that he had to be cut open.

The doctor had Kurt and Dave's bedroom prepared for surgery with new sheets and sent the maid for towels and boiled water like they did in the old times. Alchemy should have been enough to prevent infections but you could never be too sure about it. “Help him lay down,” Mr. Chang said to Blaine and Dave. And when they complied and Kurt was on the bed as comfortably as possible in his state, he threw both of them out of the room.

“Did he just lock me out of my own bedroom?” Dave asked, staring at the locked door.

“He did. You wouldn't shut up,” Blaine said, annoyed. His hair was a mess as a result of Kurt reaching out and pull at whatever he found on his way. And his shirt was out of his pants and it was definitely not how he liked to wear it. He looked like someone had attacked him.

Dave slammed his fist against the door but nobody seemed to care. The door remained locked and he was left there standing and hearing whatever noise came from the other side. “What the hell is he doing to him?” Dave screamed, turning to Blaine. “Why is Kurt screaming? Shouldn't he be sleeping by now? He can't give birth if he's awake, can he? Fuck!”

Blaine watched as he slammed his fist against the door once again, always with the same result. “Would you calm down, please? Just sit down. You are not helping him.”

“What should I do, then? Just stay here and wait while he is in there alone?”

“Yes, that's pretty much the idea.” Blaine sighed and grabbed him by the shoulders. Dave tried to free himself but Blaine wouldn't let go, so he gave up. “Just listen. He stopped screaming ten minutes ago.”

Dave shut up. The house was not completely quiet, he could still hear the rustling and soft voices of two people behind the door, but the painful sound of Kurt's desperate cry wasn't there anymore. “He is not crying,” he whispered.

“Exactly. He must be sleeping,” Blaine nodded. “Doctor Chang knows what he is doing.”

Dave frowned. “Yes, and he hate what we did.”

“But he's been helping you all along, so he will bring your boy into the world,” Blaine tried to smile and patted him on his shoulder. “Now, please, just take a seat. It is going to be over soon.”

It turned out it took a little more than 'soon' to perform the surgery, so when Mr. Chang finally emerged from the room, six hours had passed. Dave woke up as soon as he heard the door open and elbowed Blaine who was snoring loudly with his head resting on Dave's shoulder.

“Is everything alright?” Dave said, which was his tagline by then. He stood up, forcing Blaine to do the same and approached the doctor. “How is Kurt? And the baby?”

“All considered, they are both fine,” the man answered. “The boy is healthy, even if a little underweight. Kurt needs to recover though. His body is weak and will change back in the next few weeks, which means you can expect him to be sick for a little while. But he will be fine.”

“Can I see him?”

Mr. Chang nodded. “Kurt needs to rest, though. So be quick.”

When Dave and Blaine entered the room, Kurt was sitting on the bed, propped against a few large pillows. The sheets had been changed again and the room didn't show any signs of the surgery that was performed in it just a few hours priors. 

When Kurt saw them, he smiled lovely. He looked tired and pale but over all he seemed fine. The maid had helped him wear one of his old, silk pajamas and even though the covers hid half of his body, you could clearly see his rounded belly was gone. “Come in,” he invited them, whispering.

Dave reached him first and gave him a tender kiss on his lips as he sat down on the bed. “How do you feel?” He asked, unable to look away from his eyes.

Kurt chuckled because he knew that stare. It was the same Dave had the day they met. He would just look at him, his mouth stupidly open and no idea what to tell him. Kurt had found him sweet back then, and he was finding him sweeter now. “I'm fine. I didn't feel anything,” he said.

“I was so worried.”

Kurt's lovingly smile turned into an amused one as his husband kept staring at him, mesmerized by his well-being as if those past six hours of waiting were just for him to get better and nothing else. “Don't you wanna see your son?”

Suddenly, Dave seemed to remember there had to be a baby somewhere in the room. “I do. Of course I do,” he babbled, confusedly. “I always did. I got distracted by–”

Kurt chuckled. “I know, Dave. I was just mocking you.”

Only when Kurt turned to tend to something at his right, Dave noticed the basket-like cradle safely nested in pillows next to Kurt, in the very same space Dave would occupy if he were sleeping there. His heart started beating faster as his husband picked up what looked like the tiniest bundle of blankets that moved just so very lightly. Kurt smiled at it and whispered soothing words as he pulled it closer to himself. “Here,” he said, looking up at Dave. “Isn't he beautiful?”

Dave opened and closed his mouth twice, but words didn't come out. The baby was sleeping, fidgeting every now and then as if dreaming and he was so perfectly cute, Dave couldn't tear his eyes away from him as much as he couldn't from the baby's other father. The baby was still flushed and puffy but Dave couldn't care less. He stared at his closed eyes and at the curve of his tiny nose that he could already see was going to be snub like Kurt's. “He is wonderful,” he said moved, reaching to his son to stroke with a finger one of his hand. The baby opened and closed his hand at the touch and sighed deeply in what looked like just total bliss. Both Kurt and Dave chuckled.

“Do you wanna hold him?” Kurt invited him. He didn't wait for an answer, though. He handed him the baby smiling and Dave could do nothing but taking him in his arms.

The baby was so light, Dave didn't know how to hold him properly. He was afraid both to break him if he held him too strongly and to drop him if he didn't enough. But he was smiling stupidly anyway, chuckling every now and then because this was the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to him.

“So, did you pick a name too while you were pounding your fists against the door?” Kurt asked as he couldn't help but smile watching Dave with the baby.

“Actually, I did,” he answered, looking up at him. “But I wanted to see his face first to make sure it is the right name for him.”

“So, what is it?”

Dave looked at his son's frowning face. “Leonard,” he said, proudly. “It means brave. I thought you were so in having him and maybe he will share some of your courage too.”

Kurt smiled at him, lovingly. “I love it.”

Blaine had stepped aside to give them their moment with the baby and he was watching them fondly, just happy for them with no other grim thoughts about the wrath of Gods for once. They looked so totally at peace and complete right now that even in his usually guilty-filled mind there was no room for the thought of punishment.

“Blaine,” Kurt called after a while. “Would you come over, please? I remember you being quite the hero today.”

Blaine smiled in embarrassment as he joined them. “I didn't do anything.”

“You carried me around and I know I was heavy enough for you to be worth of a medal, so please shut up and accept my gratitude for that,” Kurt said, playfully. He opened his arms and Blaine hugged him. “Thank you for being here.”

When Blaine came out of that hug, Dave handed him the baby without even being asked to, which was proof enough of his newfound tolerance for him. Blaine took the baby very carefully, not having held one before.

He had thought himself to be a serious enough man, but he too started to chuckle stupidly as soon as the baby moved in his arms and made the smallest of sounds, yawning. “Hello there” Blaine said softly when the baby opened his eyes and followed the sound of his voice, looking blindly at him. “Welcome to this world, Leonard.”

He was still holding the baby when the door burst open and a group of five priests entered the room. The housemaid followed close behind. “I am sorry Lord Karofsky. I told them to wait but they wouldn't listen to me,” she said, breathlessly. 

Dave just nodded at her, knowing the priests had probably stormed into the house uninvited. This was bound to happen eventually because priests always came as soon as a new baby was born to assign him but he had kinda hoped it wouldn't because after what happened a few days before, he just knew the whole ceremony was going to be just ugly. 

“I thought the Gods had turned their backs on us,” Dave said angrily as he stepped in front of the bed, protectively. While Kurt looked paralyzed by the priests' invasion, Blaine held Leonard to his chest as if to enforce Dave's guarding stance.  
“That's what you sinners would hope for, isn't it?” the head priest said. He wore a red tunic with golden embroidery on the hem and black cape with a hood that covered half of his face. “To be free to live your filthy lives away from Gods' eyes. But this is never the case. Gods have more mercy for you than you have for yourselves. They bless with their righteousness even who betrays their trust like you did.” 

“You were the ones who banned us from the temple,” Dave said. “We never denied our faith.”

“You did when you brought to this world that abomination,” the priest said, pointing at the baby who didn't seem happy with all this noise and started fidgeting nervously.

“He is my son,” Dave stated. “And you will not call him that.”

“He is something that should have never lived,” the priest insisted. “And we didn't know what to do with him. For months we wondered who he was destined to, or even if he would be. The Gods would not tell us, we couldn't hear their voices.”

The tension in the room was raising to a point Blaine couldn't take it anymore. This annoyance was bothering Leonard who was now meowing and twisting restlessly, letting out an unconvinced sob every now and then as if he wanted to cry but he wasn't really sure about it yet. Blaine thought to hand him over to his father, but he couldn't resolve to move. He was stupidly afraid to draw the attention on himself and the baby, as if they didn't have it all already.

“But now we know,” the priest continued. “Now that we are here in this house, the voices of the God are loud and clear. Of course they had a plan all along and it's righteous and well deserved as their plans always are.”

The way his mouth was moving, the only visible thing under his black cape, was scarier than ever. He stepped forward, alerting Dave who tensed watching his every move. But the priest didn't go very far. He stopped just in front of Blaine. “What's the boy name?”

Nobody answered, so he was forced to repeat the question.

Kurt swallowed hard. “It's Leonard, sir.”

The priest reached out for the baby and Blaine really struggled not to step back. He knew the rituals by heart, so he shouldn't be afraid but that man scared him. His fears seemed to pass to Leonard who instantly started to cry his heart out as the man touched his forehead with his fingertips. “The Gods have spoken,” he said loud and clear, as the other four priests served as witnesses according to the tradition. “Every creature who is brought to this world should not live alone, as it is stated in the Book of Creation. The Gods want us to share our path in life with our soulmate, a soul they choose for us to love and care for until our days are over. But Leonard's life is the result of a sin, therefore his love in life will be his parents' punishment. The Gods destined Leonard to the man holding him now. This is the word of the Gods.”

Blaine opened his eyes wide. “He can't be destined to me!” He shouted. “I had my soulmate! He died more than ten years ago. Nobody has ever been reassigned before!”

The priest looked up to him, so Blaine could get a glimpse of his blue, cold eyes. “Are you questioning the will of the Gods, Blaine Anderson?”

Blaine shivered, wondering if it were the Gods punishing him for helping Kurt and Dave or if it was instead the wrath of a man he had the guts to dare in front of everyone else.  
“You can't give him to Blaine!” Kurt cried out. “He will be thirty-five by the time Leonard will be of age.”

“Maybe there is a lesson to learn here, don't you think?” The priest said, hiding his hands inside his tunic's sleeves. “Unnatural births lead to unnatural bonds.”

Kurt closed his fists, fighting tears. “How can the Gods be so evil as to assign an innocent child to a full grown man?”

“Gods are not evil. Or that abomination will be dead by now,” the priest said, heading toward the door. “Be grateful of what the Gods have let you keep instead of whining for something you deserve.”

The four silent priests gathered around the one who had just spoken and they all left the room.

Everybody was too shocked to do anything. They all stared at the door, deaf even to the sound of the baby crying as they tried to figure out what their life would be like from now on. And failed.

*

As his driver put his luggage onto the carriage, Blaine took both Kurt's hands and they shared a very sad look. Now that he was bond to Leonard, he could not stay a day longer, if he didn't want to cause the wrath of Gods once again. “I am so sorry for what happened,” he said. “If I ever imagined, I would have never stayed.”

Kurt shook his head and sighed. He was still very weak and he should have been in bed, but he insisted on walking him to the door. “This is not your fault and I should be the one apologizing to you. It's mine and Dave's punishment and you're gonna suffer it as well as my son.”

After the priests had gone and Dave had brought down a considerable part of the house in a rage fit, they all had sat down in the damaged dining room, little Leonard left to the tender care of the maid. They accepted the fact things were going to change and Blaine was indeed going to be with Leonard in due time. Their practical side had kicked in and they had understood that first of all Blaine had to leave.

“I promise I will keep myself as far as I can from him in the next fifteen years,” Blaine said, as his worst nightmare at the moment was the past repeating itself. 

Kurt nodded, overwhelmed. His teary eyes were making Blaine cringe.

“And Kurt, I know it doesn't help at all right now but...” Blaine moistened his lips, nervously. “When the time comes, I will do my best for him. I promise I will give him the happiest life I can.”

Kurt smiled sadly at him and nodded again. “I know you will,” he said and pulled him in a desperate hug, clinging to his shoulders as he let himself cry just for one moment. “I'm just glad that if it has to be, it's you and not someone else.”

When he drew back, the tears were gone and he sighed. “Have a safe trip, Blaine” he said, standing on the front porch as the other walked to the carriage.

Kurt waved him goodbye and Blaine kept watching him until he couldn't see him anymore.

In fifteen years he was going to come back and take their child away from them, the least he could do was ask for forgiveness for what he thought was his sins and not Kurt's.

If he prayed and if he hoped enough, maybe the Gods would listen to him and have mercy.

He closed his eyes and cried because he didn't believe they would.


End file.
